She Who Bears the Shield
by Cactusgirl329
Summary: Dovekin!Verse. Quinn must teach her charge, Santana, a lesson in defense. Unfortunately, Santana's stubbornness is as strong as the shield she doesn't want to learn how to use. Santana and Quinn Friendship. Prequel to Dovekin. T (Warning for strong language)
1. Part I: She Who Bears the Shield

**Quinn must teach her charge, Santana, a lesson in defense. Unfortunately, Santana's stubbornness is as strong as the shield she doesn't want to learn how to use.**

 **Dedicated to Gnome! Who wrote an amazing prequel to Dovekin featuring Quinn and Santana and has been a constant inspiration for exploring the relationship between Santana, Quinn, and Brittany. I've had this prequel for a while now and I should definitely just post it. I know you're all waiting for a Dovekin update and I think finally just posting this will propel me to finish the chapter.**

 **Special thanks to Whitney for helping me brainstorm titles and for coining the term pre-fic-quel. It's my new favorite word! :D And of course a big thank you to my girlfriend, Gab, for always editing and being excited for me to write even if it's not her favorite genre.**

 **(NO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP) These ladies are friends, warriors, competitors, and companions, and as strong as their bonds are, they are shield-sisters without the romantic tension.**

 **I'll be updating this fic whenever the mood strikes me. Each chapter will be a full section and it does have plot structure, as in, I do have a comprehensive story to tell. It's a three part novel. This is really a glimpse into what shapes Santana and Quinn before Dovekin.**

 **Quinn. Santana. Pre-fic-quel to Dovekin. Rated T.**

* * *

 **She Who Bears the Shield**

 **Part 1**

"Pick your shield up! Keep it high - higher!"

The sound of a practice sword crashed against the wooden frame of the shield, but it was quickly drowned out by similar noises. All around Fort Morvunskar's courtyard were Skyrim warriors fighting. They wore loose shirts and light armor. The sun shone bright on the open field behind the stone walls of the old fort. The Windhelm guard had taken to sending a small contingent of recruits and officers-in-training to the nearby Morvunskar as a place for the officers to start honing their leadership skills on the rawest soldiers and to keep the fort occupied. It had been two weeks since their rotation began. So far there had been no brigands, no sign of thieves, and no natural disasters had occurred in the mild warmth of summer to deploy any troops to provide relief. The only assignment worthy of their time had been in the practice yard.

Quinn stepped back from the nearest soldier in training. His ill placed footing almost knocked him right into her. She gave him a hard shove forward to push him back in the direction of his opponent. "Keep your feet moving, Jorrah. And keep your shield high or you're goi-"

It was too late. Jorrah's opponent took advantage of Jorrah's exposed chest for a swift strike beyond the recruit's defense. The hard blow sent the recruit to the ground with an obnoxious cry of pain. Quinn didn't hide her displeasure at Jorrah's poor show of training, but she ignored him and stepped over the writhing boy toward his sparring partner.

"Your strike was weak and wouldn't have been enough to incapacitate your opponent. In battle, you just left yourself or your fellow soldier vulnerable to another attack. If you see an opening, take it. Don't –" Jorrah continued rolling in agony. "- hold back." Quinn finished and turned to Jorrah. "Off the ground now, recruit, and get back into fighting position."

"But that hurt, Officer Fabray, could you give me a moment?" Jorrah took his time standing. "I wasn't prepared and I've never worked with a shield before. I was told we wouldn't need to worry about using one."

"That hurt?" Quinn asked. "Imagine if that had been a real sword. You would have been crippled if you were lucky." She paused and frowned. "Who told you that you wouldn't need to use a shield?"

Jorrah instantly dropped his head and stared at the tips of his boots. His mouth drew a straight line of silence.

Quinn pursed her lips and resisted the urge to play with her long blonde braid in agitation. She hadn't expected Galmar to give her a training and supervision assignment this early in her career. At barely the age of sixteen, Quinn was the youngest officer currently serving in the Windhelm guard. It was a position she knew she had earned, but it came at a price. She already heard rumors and whispers that she gained the position due to her father's influence in the guard. She wouldn't tolerate even the slightest chance of insubordination. Any hint of poor attitude or undisciplined results from her unit would validate her fellow officers' doubts in her abilities – she had earned her rank or was she favored because of her father's name?

Quinn would have her answer; her voice flattened. "Who said it?"

Jorrah shook his head sharply that he wouldn't answer the question. It was the first time Quinn had seen Jorrah show even a hint of a backbone. Had his display of resilience been for any other reason than to defy her questioning, Quinn would have been pleased, but she couldn't understand how a spineless recruit chose to refuse her order. He ducked his head down even further and remained completely still.

A few cries and shouts of excitement echoed not far away. Quinn didn't look to the source of the commotion, but Jorrah's eyes frantically slid to the left and met Quinn's gaze before they dropped once more. More shouting erupted from the nearby fight. A pit settled in Quinn's stomach. She recognized at least one of the voices.

Shit.

Quinn pulled back from Jorrah. "Twenty laps around the courtyard." At first, he almost groaned, but he recognized the look in Quinn's eyes and nodded. He started to take off. Quinn called after him. " _With_ your shield, recruit. I want it held above your head the entire time. Maybe then you'll learn to keep it high."

This time, he did groan, but he quickly took up his shield, relieved his punishment wasn't more. Quinn turned to Jorrah's sparring partner. "What are you still doing here? He's your partner. You don't leave him by himself. Get a shield and join him."

"Yes, Officer Fabray."

Quinn didn't bother to make sure the two recruits would follow her orders. They either would or they would desert. She had learned at a very young age there was no room for disobedience. Jorrah didn't have to name the trainee who had told him not to bother with shields. There was only one warrior in Fort Morvunskar who was not only given room for disobedience, but practically demanded it.

Quinn walked toward the sound of the commotion and steeled herself. She lifted a shield from a rack and motioned for another recruit to give her his sword. By the time she reached her destination, Quinn had outfitted herself with a standard issue sword and shield. A small gathering of recruits had circled around the sparring, but upon seeing Quinn's arrival, they quickly returned to their own practice areas.

Most of the recruits expected Quinn to start barking orders. Instead, she remained still and watched the two fighters. The first was a decently skilled Bone-Breaker ranked soldier sent to help Quinn guide the recruits. But his real mission was to train the Jarl's daughter until the new tutor from Solitude arrived. The other fighter was smaller, but much more aggressive. Quinn would have instantly recognized Santana even if she had been fully armored. Santana wore her hair back in a high pony tail and fought with stance of a predator, ready to strike at any moment. They had stopped using practice swords and fought with real steel. The sound of steel on wood rang in the ears differently than the wooden practice swords. Neither had donned any sort of armor. They fought in light shirts and leather pants. Each attack was dangerously close to making contact with unprotected bodies.

But it was Santana's body that Quinn was most concerned about; Quinn knew Santana had a habit of needlessly placing herself in danger. Like right now for instance, Santana had managed to goad a member of the guard into fighting her with real steel during a practice session without any protection.

Santana stepped back and squared herself to her opponent. Santana tilted forward and every muscle in her body tensed and coiled. Quinn recognized Santana's desire to raise the stakes of their practice sparring. Santana tossed her shield to the ground and flipped her sword from one hand to the other.

"Santana-" The instructor paused and said her name with exasperation. It was a tone Quinn had grown accustomed to hearing whenever her training partner took the practice field with an instructor. "-this is a shield and sword training session. Pick up your shield so we may continue."

Santana's sword lazily rolled in the air with the same ease and pace as she rolled her eyes. "What do I need a shield for? I can handle you with both of my swords."

"That's not the point of the exercise."

"I'll give you a point-" Santana walked to the weapons rack and picked out a second sword. She made figure eights in the air before she returned to her fighting stance in front of him. Santana didn't bother to hide her self-satisfaction as she smirked at his uneasiness. "-or two points."

"Again, this is not-"

"Then prove me wrong. Show me how your shield bests my swords." Santana challenged. Quinn quickly realized this wasn't going to end well for Santana's instructor. She had seen that look in Santana's eyes before. Her stomach twisted in anticipation. A few more recruits dropped their own weapons to wander toward the sparring match between the Jarl's Daughter and a ranked Bone-Breaker. He wouldn't last and Quinn could lose control over the practice yard, but much worse, Santana would feel vindicated in her decision to not learn how to use a shield. Only a fool believed they could learn one type of fighting style and expect to survive.

The shield in Quinn's hand felt heavier than usual. It was an old shield. Quinn imagined it had been used to train dozens of Skyrim men and women for a long time. The blue paint of the Windhelm Bear was faded and cracked over the wood, but it was still sturdy.

The shield could turn a blade or stop an arrow.

Santana lunged at her instructor with both blades. Despite the Bone-Breaker's rank and training, Santana simply overwhelmed him. He barely blocked her first sword with his shield. Unlike Quinn's recruits, Santana didn't hold back. Her other sword swept beneath his counter, but he managed to block the blade with his shield once more. A collective gasp swept over the field.

The shield could save a life.

Quinn frowned at the Bone-Breaker's technique. He was slow – too slow to match Santana's speed and relentless offensive. Besides a lack of speed, Quinn could see he only reacted. The shield was more than protection; it was strategy and patience.

Santana charged at him once more. His footwork faltered. His sword arm dropped too low. Santana splintered the man's shield. The flat part of her second blade caught the hilt of his sword. He yelped in pain and clutched at his knuckles. It was clear the fight was over.

Santana stated with a satisfied smirk. "You don't make a very convincing argument for the shield. We are done here."

The crowd murmured in both amusement and approval at Santana's skilled display. Quinn didn't bother to reprimand the two recruits laughing next to her. They were not the source of the disruption.

* * *

Santana rolled her eyes and bent over her instructor on the ground. His shield was too far for him to reach and she had a feeling that at least two of his fingers were broken. She leaned in close so her voice wouldn't carry. "Make sure you give my father and his commander a detailed report of how you trained me. You can also inform him that I will not stay in a barracks under supervision that can't even best me in a training circle."

Santana glanced to the man's broken hand. "Make sure you see the healer before you leave."

The man didn't nod or lift his eyes while Santana spoke. She knew it was his pride that kept him from responding to the Jarl's daughter. Santana almost felt sorry for him, but she had grown impatient with her time at Fort Morvunskar. Unlike Quinn, she had not been given an assignment, a commission, or even a consideration. Instead, she had been shoved onto a horse and told to ride with the Windhelm recruits and that her new tutor and potential housecarl would arrive shortly. That had been three weeks ago.

She was impatient. There was word from the west of a tournament, a rumor there were men and women trying to resurrect the Fighter's Guild in Whiterun, and a great hunt was forming in Winterhold to search for Ysgarmor's tomb. Besides all of the exciting quests and opportunities happening throughout Skyrim, it was in the middle of the warm months and there were taverns to visit, ales to drink, women to see, and songs to hear.

Learning how to block a slow attack from a Bone-Breaker who would have trouble fighting some of these recruits was almost as worthless as the shield itself. Santana kicked the fallen shield as she walked away. Only weak and poorly trained soldiers needed to block. Santana knew it was the fighter who attacked first who would win.

"Pick up that shield." A voice echoed behind her.

Santana froze. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She could feel Quinn's eyes. Santana didn't turn around; instead she twisted the sword in her left hand. The leather grip rubbed against her sweaty palm.

Quinn repeated herself. "I said – pick that shield up, Santana. You will learn how to use one."

Santana ignored the heat in her face at Quinn's words. She whipped around and faced her training partner. Quinn stood where the Bone-Breaker had previously squared off against the Jarl's Daughter. Quinn's long blonde braid draped over her left shoulder down her chest. Like Santana, Quinn didn't wear chainmail or leather for protection. The only item she carried was an old Windhelm shield strapped to her left arm.

Santana couldn't believe Quinn wanted to do this – right here, right now – in front of the entire barracks. Normally when Quinn had a problem with her, she would talk to Santana later at night when they were alone. Most times, it was Quinn who came to her defense on the practice field first. Of all the people Santana had expected to challenge her after defeating one of the ranked officers stationed at Morvunskar, Quinn had been the last. Santana swallowed down her surprise and stomached the taste of betrayal. She lifted her chin in defiance and took a step forward. She ignored the shield on the ground.

Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper so only Quinn could hear her. "Are we really going to do this?"

"Are you going to learn the shield?"

Santana's eyes narrowed, but she spun her twin blades in front of her and shook her head in response. "I think I just proved that I don't need it. My swords can handle anything. The best defense is a better offense."

Quinn nodded at Santana's response as if she had expected it. She turned to the nearest recruit. "Give me your shield."

The Unblooded practically tripped over himself to pass the shield to Quinn. She held her right arm out to him. "Strap it on." His fingers fumbled over the leather, but he secured his shield over Quinn's forearm and stepped back. Quinn looked down. She bore a shield on each arm. It wasn't the most effective use of either shield, but it would prove a point.

Santana ran her tongue over her lips as she watched Quinn fix her shields. Her eyes grew darker as she realized what Quinn meant to do. It was foolish. Quinn would have no weapon and certainly wouldn't be able to defeat Santana.

"You don't want to do this." Santana whispered in the same low voice to make sure her words only reached Quinn's ears. Santana knew how much this commission meant to Quinn and that if Quinn lost in a training exercise in front of the barracks, she would lose complete respect from Fort Morvunskar's commander and her fellow officers. More than that, Santana couldn't afford to throw the fight, it wasn't in her nature, and she knew Quinn would never accept anything less than her best effort. Between the two of them, they had enough pride for the entire force of the Skyrim's warriors. Neither of them would hold back and one of them would have to fall. Santana's breathing hitched as she offered them both a way out. "You don't have to do this, Quinn."

Whether Quinn recognized Santana's words were for their mutual benefit or not, Quinn shook her head. She didn't care about pride or her commission or keeping face in front of her soldiers. This was about Santana. Quinn had been watching Santana slowly spiral further and further away from Windhelm, from their tutors, from training, from everything that would keep her safe. Before they had left for Morvunskar, Jarl Ulfric had summoned Quinn to discuss the possibility of the new tutor from the city of Solitude to become Santana's housecarl and that Quinn was to keep an eye on his daughter until the tutor's arrival.

Santana needed to be able to keep herself safe first.

"I do." Quinn stated.

"Quinn…" Santana twirled the blades in her hands. Her heart pounded just a little harder. She could feel it – the rush, the adrenaline, the will of Talos, or whatever it was called – Santana felt the energy building between them. It was inevitable now. She took a step to the right. "I won't hold back."

"Good." Quinn mirrored her steps. "You'll need everything you've got if you expect to walk away from this."

"Fine." Santana practically growled.

"Fine." Again, Quinn repeated Santana's steps. She lifted both of her arms to display the two Bears on the shield faces. "You get your swords and I get my shields. If you best me, you can walk away and forget about learning how to use a shield."

"Consider my lesson finished, _Officer Fabray._ " Santana lunged forward, but unlike the Bone-Breaker before, Quinn was patient. She didn't rush to meet Santana's attack, but instead Quinn waited for Santana to make her charge. The Jarl's Daughter had been trained by the best and despite their young ages, they had been swinging weapons for a lifetime. Santana's sword rattled the frame of the shield with a loud crack. The practice field held their collective breath. Every recruit and officer had stopped their own sparring to watch the two women fight. Those who had spent time in the Palace of Kings, the Jarl's Keep, in Windhelm, would have seen Quinn and Santana practicing together with tutors or other soldiers, but they had been partners. This felt completely different.

Quinn barely reacted.

Santana struck again. Quinn casually raised her shield to meet Santana's attack. The short swords rebounded from the reinforced wood again and again and again. Agitated with the ease of Quinn's blocks, Santana bared her teeth and attempted a low swing with her dominant left hand. Quinn didn't smile, but her hazel eyes sharpened as if she had been waiting for Santana to attempt such a move. The officer dropped her right shoulder in an aggressive counterattack that prevented Santana from completing her full swing. The sudden shift in Quinn's tactics threw Santana off. She wasn't prepared for Quinn's left shield to take her square in the face.

Santana staggered back, but quickly recovered. Her eyes flashed more from the blow to her pride than what would be a swollen lip.

"You will learn the shield."

"Why? It has no use to me."

"I won't always be there to save you."

"I don't need your protection – or any protection."

It was clear she wouldn't be able to overwhelm Quinn like she had done to her father's Bone-Breaker, but that didn't mean she would concede. She quickened her steps and arced her next attack over her head and instantly pivoted her feet to move her around Quinn's body. Their feet moved quicker than Santana's attacks as Quinn anticipated all of Santana's steps a second before she tried to execute them. This was no longer a back and forth spar, but a sweeping display of weapon mastery. Quinn and Santana spun in circles into and around each other, but despite Santana's flurry of attacks, she never came close to landing a strike on Quinn. The officer's shields always found her blades.

For a second time, Quinn's shield crashed into Santana's face. This time, Santana spit a good amount of blood to the ground before she charged back at her friend.

She leapt across the grass, crossed both swords over her head, and tried to drive down Quinn's high defense. She knew Quinn would block the attack, but it brought them close together. Santana leaned into Quinn's shields. Their faces were inches apart and Quinn could feel Santana's heavy breathing and see the frustration brewing just beneath Santana's expression.

"Santana…" Quinn risked Santana's anger.

Santana pressed harder into Quinn's shields. The left one buckled under the force and an audible crack echoed between them, but Quinn didn't budge. She maintained her position despite the muscle strain without throwing Santana's back.

"Stop this now."

"You can't defend forever." Santana stated as fact. "No one can defend forever."

Santana bore down hard. Quinn's right shield strained. The crack in the center grew more pronounced. A few more attacks from Santana's swords and it would be useless.

"The shield isn't just about defending yourself." Quinn threw Santana back. They separated a few feet. "Here." Quinn unstrapped the cracked shield and tossed it to a nearby recruit. "I'll make it fair for you."

Santana didn't bother to tell Quinn to get another shield. She charged at Quinn with both swords. Quinn patiently waited until Santana was almost on her. Her shield took the closest sword, while she step-sided Santana's attack. Her free hand grasped Santana's wrist. Santana didn't expect the offensive move from Quinn and was unable to prevent the officer from disarming her of her right hand sword. To finish the move, Quinn twisted behind Santana's exposed backside and drove the back of her shield between Santana's shoulder blades.

Santana grunted at the force and stumbled forward unable to maintain her balance. Quinn quietly and calmly spun Santana's sword in her hand once before she discarded it to the ground and lifted her shield once more. She readjusted her long blonde braid back over her shoulder and tightened the straps on her remaining shield. The great Bear of Windhelm held more than a few new chops in the wood and splinters where Santana's sword had bit into its surface, but it remained intact.

Santana stood back up and faced Quinn. She was panting and Quinn could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but she knew Santana would never quit and especially not now. Quinn remained almost motionless as Santana growled and shot forward for another attack. At the last second, Quinn dropped low underneath Santana's attack and drove the flat of her shield up into the hilt of Santana's sword. The shield cracked Santana's knuckles and kicked the sword into the air. Quinn caught it before it fell to the ground and it one smooth motion, pointed the tip to Santana's exposed throat.

Neither woman moved. Santana's eyes were like a cornered predator – fierce and uninhibited.

"Yield, Santana."

Santana shook her head stubbornly and held Quinn's stare.

Quinn recognized Santana would never yield now that her pride had been injured. The practice field remained uneasily quiet as the two sparring opponents drew closer. Before Santana did something rash, the officer tossed the sword away to the ground. As Quinn threw the weapon, Santana balled her hand into a fist and moved to punch Quinn. For the first time, Santana caught Quinn by surprise. She made contact with Quinn's face and tackled her to the hard ground.

Within moments, they were rolling on the ground exchanging blows. Santana topped Quinn and sent another punch to the officer's face before Quinn batted her back with a knock from her shield. Santana grunted and tried to hit Quinn again, but a large body lifted her in the air.

"Enough!" A male voice boomed above them. Commander Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced of the Eastmarch, second only to Galmar Stone-Fist, stood above the quarrelling women with a scowl that would have struck fear in a sabre cat. He tossed Santana a few paces back before he grabbed the front of Quinn's shirt and yanked her from the ground. He straightened Quinn up and turned on Santana with a snarl. "I told the Jarl having you worked in with the recruits would make for bad blood."

Quinn's eyes quickly shot over to Santana as she recognized Yrsarald's ire mounting. Yrsarald must have just arrived at the Fort by the command of Ulfric, as he was one of the highest ranking officers in the Eastmarch. Only the Jarl's command would have sent him to Fort Morvunskar in the middle of the summer months. Which meant Santana's father wanted a full report on his daughter's progress without making the journey himself. Quinn saw Santana come to the same conclusion and would not be pleased to know she was being babysat from afar.

Santana opened her mouth, but before Santana could snap back and make the situation worse, Quinn quickly interjected. "It was a mistake on my part, Commander." Quinn straightened her posture and ignored the pain in her jaw from Santana's left hook. "It was my lapse in training protocol that started this. She was just reacting as the situation unfolded. I take full responsibility."

Santana growled and stepped forward unwilling to let Quinn take the blame for her behavior. "No-"

"Silence!" He held up his hand and looked over Santana's beaten and bruised body. Parts of her face were cut and swollen from Quinn's shield, her shirt had been torn in places, and there was blood staining her pants where she had been sliced from the rim of Quinn's shield. "It looks like Officer Fabray has already given you punishment enough. You will report to the infirmary and then to your quarters. You are dismissed for the rest of the day."

Santana released a soft sigh that Yrsarald had decided it was Santana who deserved the chastisement. Instead of protesting, she nodded her head in agreement.

"As for you, Officer Fabray-" The commander continued. Santana stopped nodding and quickly glanced to Quinn. It was supposed to be Santana's punishment for acting out, not Quinn's. Santana took a step forward, but Quinn's eyes backed her off. Santana fought against her desire to stop Yrsarald from completing his thoughts and knowing that if she intervened on Quinn's behalf, that Quinn would never forgive her. Santana's stomach turned as Quinn gripped her shield a fraction harder."- you will accompany me for a tour of the grounds and the soldiers stationed here while I decide how to deal with your error in judgment and your inability to effectively train. Such behavior is unfitting of an officer. Perhaps you are too young for your station."

Quinn didn't reveal the way his words hurt more than any hit Santana inflicted on her. Instead she tilted her chin up and responded with a clear voice. "Yes, commander."

"Now for the rest of you louts, you will return to training immediately or suffer the same fate or worse."

The training field scattered. Santana, however, lingered, but Quinn never looked back or acknowledged Santana's unease. Quinn reverently placed her shield back on the weapons rack and obediently led Commander Yrsarald through the courtyard. Santana didn't know if she was angrier at herself for letting Quinn beat her or for allowing Quinn to take whatever punishment should have been hers. She kicked at the broken shield Quinn had discarded during their fight and winced in pain.

"By Talos."

* * *

Santana could hear voices a few bunks away from hers.

"Think she's coming to the hall for dinner?"

Unfortunately, they were hard to ignore especially when she knew they were talking about her.

"You were there. I wouldn't show my face in the hall for at least a week after that beating."

Santana stopped turning the knife in her hand and sat up in the top bed of the barracks bunk, the one she shared with Quinn. It was in the corner of the room and a little distance away from the majority of the sleeping quarters. The stationed commanding officer at Morvunskar had said he had given them space to accommodate for Quinn's position, but he lacked the room for a junior officer. He assured Quinn and Santana that he would separate them from the raw recruits as soon as an officer's room became available. Santana doubted he would ever spend the time or energy.

"Yeah, but have you seen Officer Fabray since the Commander arrived?"

The point of her knife dipped slightly at the mention of Quinn. Santana ignored the shooting pain in her left side to turn on the bed. She could only see the back of two heads walking away.

"No one's seen her since she left with the commander at midday."

"What do you think? Demotion?"

"They wouldn't strip her of her rank. Do you know who her father was? No, that would never happen, but Yrsarald has been known to make examples and Fabray's tough enough to take a lashing and then ask for a second."

"Tough is an understatement. She's made of old stone and grit. All I know is that I'll be spending a little more time with the shield tomorrow."

"Yeah." The other one agreed. "She was untouchable. I can't believe she's as young as my own daughter."

"Youth and skill combined - I think she could have given the commander trouble if they had sparred."

"Now that would have been a fight! Could you imagine?"

"I heard they have her on the fast track to taking the mantle from one of the older commanders."

"They probably _did._ Who knows what track they'll have Fabray on now."

The sound of the door closing echoed through the room. Santana rolled her eyes and leaned back. She tossed the knife in the air and caught it with her other hand before she repeated the motion. Santana had heard rumors of Yrsarald's command – he was known to be ruthless. Quinn had been untouchable in the field, but Santana knew that if commanded, Quinn would willingly put down all of her defenses to receive whatever punishment was given to her. Her father should have never sent Yrsarald to the fort to check on Santana. This would have never happened.

"Fuck." Santana muttered before she threw the knife back in the air. It spun three times before she caught it and repeated the motion. Three spins before she would easily snatch it above her chest. Again and again she threw the knife in the air until her muscles strained and her eyes threatened to close. She ignored the ache in her bones and the bruises from Quinn's shields and the slow crawl of exhaustion creeping through her consciousness. Santana tossed the weapon back in the air. Her fingers fumbled for a second, but she maintained control and caught the handle. Santana struggled to keep her eyes open and tossed the knife once more. This time she couldn't stave off sleep and she forgot to keep her eyes on the blade.

This time it spun four times.

But it never touched Santana's chest.

Quinn caught the flat of the blade between her middle and index finger. She sheathed Santana's knife into her own belt and gazed down on the Jarl's daughter with a reserved expression. It was hard to be both Santana's friend and her training partner especially when Santana had a wanderlust born of legends and she wished to be nowhere near her father's guard.

Quinn had known it would be trouble. Six months ago, the Jarl sent them to accompany an emissary to Markarth. They were ambushed along the way and had to fight their way to safety. The bandits were quickly sent scattering by the might of the small Windhelm guard, but it had only been the beginning. They spent time searching ruins, taking shelter in taverns, and all in disguise. It was the kind of adventure that training at the Palace of Kings could not provide for Santana. Quinn watched as Santana could joke with other travelers without the expectations of Ulfric's name. In small ways, she transformed into a different person, a more relaxed Santana. She knew the experience would only strengthen Santana's desire for freedom and inspire confidence in her ability to thrive in such freedom.

However, it had not been the same experience for Quinn.

Quinn remembered knocking down one of the bandits during the skirmish. He had poor form, a lack of training, and desperation in his eyes. He was hungry. His eyes were frightened. Quinn remembered holding her sword to his throat, like she had done to Santana earlier today. She remembered her father's words – strike to kill and move on. Her father said her first time killing a man would be unforgettable; that it would change her.

She remembered dishonoring the memory of her father.

She remembered telling the bandit to run.

Perhaps Yrsarald was right and she was too young to be an officer. She could fight with any man or woman in the Eastmarch, but when she had been pressed to follow through with her training, she had failed. Quinn sighed, but the gesture couldn't match the deep-seated shame and doubt stirring in her stomach.

Santana's nose crinkled against Quinn's exhale and opened her eyes.

"Quinn?"

"You fell asleep playing with your knives again."

"You should have let it hit me." Santana tried to rise and pretend she wasn't in pain. "Or did you get your fill of hurting me today?"

"Not yet."

Santana's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't decide if Quinn was serious or not.

Quinn continued. "Come on. Get your riding gear on. Don't wear colors."

"What?" Santana sat up completely, but Quinn walked to her trunk at the bottom of their bunk. She pulled out a plain shield and checked the edge of one of her many swords before she sheathed it. "Why do we have to leave? I can't believe my father would let Yrsarald dismiss you without sending a guard to take me back to the Palace of Kings."

"Yrsarald did dismiss us." Quinn stated and met Santana's eyes.

Santana's face flushed hot at the thought of Quinn enduring a commander's dismissal during her first assignment; such a failure of command would be career damning. "Quinn…I didn't-"

"Santana-" Quinn cut off Santana's apology before she could continue. "He dismissed us for the night. Now get your gear on. I want to leave before we completely lose the light."

"Leave? Where are we going?"

Quinn never answered.

A few minutes later, they rode on horseback past sentries at the Southern gate. Santana didn't ask where they were going, but she followed Quinn's horse. It wasn't until they hit the uneven dirt path leading east of the fort that Santana felt every bone and muscle in her body ache. Santana said nothing; she didn't want to give Quinn the satisfaction of knowing just how painful their lesson had been earlier. They rode in silence down roads Santana had never travelled.

An hour later, Santana could see lights in the distance. They weren't far from either Fort Morvunskar or Windhelm which meant there was only one place within distance of the city and the fort.

"What are we doing at Kynesgrove?"

"Come on." Quinn kicked her horse.

Kynesgrove was a small hamlet – barely a town – that housed nearby miners and catered to a very small farm. Santana glanced up at the sign posted above the largest building. It was a knot with intersecting stitching and painted on worn wood, underneath the symbol, it read: Braidwood Inn. They tied their horses to the post in front of the inn.

Quinn didn't bother to say anything, but she walked into the old inn as if she had been there before. Santana didn't understand; only a few hours ago, she had been certain that her return to Windhelm would be immediate and permanent.

"What are we doing here?" Santana took a seat next to Quinn at one of the tables close to the fire.

A few of the rougher looking patrons glanced their way, but upon seeing the swords on their belts, they decided not to approach the two new women. The innkeeper's sharp eyes instantly spotted the women's arrival, but he didn't approach them right away. He cared more for the color of their coin than the size of their weapons. A pig roasted over the great fire, ale and wine floated between hands before being guzzled down. In the corner of Braidwood, there was a woman a little older than their age singing as she strummed her lute. Santana's gaze lingered on her soft lips as she enunciated every word and the way her fingers moved with such confidence over the instrument.

When the singer looked up and met Santana's eyes, Santana ducked her head so the woman wouldn't notice she had been leering. Quinn was too busy sizing up the different men and women in the inn to notice the exchange between Santana and the other woman. Santana waited a moment, grateful Quinn had not witnessed her embarrassment. She looked back up, but the dark eyed singer had been waiting. Instead of turning away, she flashed Santana a secretive smile as if she invited Santana's eyes to linger longer.

"Santana." Quinn repeated. "Santana-"

Santana quickly snapped back and ignored the heat in her cheeks. "Yeah, what?"

"I said I don't think we're going to have any trouble here."

"Yeah well you still haven't explained _why_ we're here." Santana turned around so she could avoid being drawn in by the woman's dark stare. Santana held back the rest of her quick response when she remembered what had occurred between them earlier. Chagrined, but still smarting from Quinn's beating, Santana softened her voice and looked down at the table between them so she wouldn't have to meet Quinn's eyes. She didn't want to hear that Quinn had been demoted because of her. Her voice reflected her barely hidden apology. "Why _are_ we here, Quinn?"

Quinn knew why Santana's tone changed. They were both too proud to acknowledge they had been wrong to fight like children on the practice yard and Quinn still stood by her statement. Santana needed to learn more than her dual swords.

"I thought I owed you a drink."

"You owe me a lot more than a drink – more like another round and I owe Yrsarald a piece of my mind. I told him to punish me."

Quinn didn't know if it would be less painful to explain that the punishment would always fall on the officer and that it wouldn't have mattered what Santana said or to appreciate that Santana would have taken the blame. It wasn't often the stubborn daughter of the stubborn jarl would ever admit to being wrong. Perhaps that's why Quinn didn't bother to hide a subtle smile. "He wouldn't have punished you, Santana."

"Well Yrsarald still shouldn't have shown up. You know he came because of my father."

Quinn sighed at the same old anger from Santana.

"It wasn't the only reason he came, Santana."

Santana practically snarled in opposition. "Oh?"

"He has duties as a commander and it's perfectly reasonable that he would make an inspection."

"To a fort that hasn't been _inspected_ in years? He came because of my father."

"And if he did?" Quinn quietly asked in annoyance. "What does it matter, Santana? It's nothing you can worry about now." Her voice picked up intensity with each word. "It was still your decision to be here and your attitude that keeps you away from the Stormcloaks and it will be you that must make the next decision with or without your father's blessing."

"It wasn't much of a decision as an order and what are you talking about? You keeping saying me." Santana paused. "I thought we were in this together."

Quinn's hard resolve finally broke and she lowered her eyes for a moment. "That's part of the reason I brought you here."

"What do you mean, Quinn?" Santana cocked her head in confusion and uncertainty.

"Yrsarald is going to recommend that I continue with my assignment here and then head back to Windhelm before the winter. Commander Galmar will have use for me then."

Santana's face betrayed her before her words; bewilderment replaced anger. Quinn would leave to train under Galmar and Santana would be…

"So you're leaving me and what am I supposed to do?"

"According to Yrsarald, your father has sent word to Solitude before we came to the fort that you are in need of a new housecarl and mentor. Apparently, he had an inkling your current one wouldn't be a permanent assignment."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't need a housecarl or another nursemaid. I have more than enough training and ability to move freely through Skyrim without his supervision. I don't need anyone."

She chose to be more upset over her father's assignment of yet another housecarl than to even think about Quinn moving on. It would be the first time they were separated since childhood. Santana had not missed how welcomed Quinn was within the Stormcloak ranks, even with Santana's father – Quinn was the perfect Stormcloak. It wasn't resentment which twisted her stomach, but the knowledge that Quinn would move on to the destiny she was fated to have while Santana didn't even know what she wanted for tomorrow.

For a brief moment, Quinn considered what it would mean to give up her position, her rank, and her promotion. She didn't know if it was shame from her father's legacy or shame that she was unable to imagine her life without the Stormcloaks that made her want to change the subject. Either way, Quinn knew she wouldn't give up her position – even for Santana. "Let's forget about it, okay? I brought you here for a few drinks, not to worry about the future."

Santana gave her companion a barely visible nod.

A third voice cut into their conversation. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"

"Two ales." Relieved to have a break in their serious conversation, Quinn put up two fingers and barely glanced at the woman.

Santana, however, made the mistake of meeting the eyes of the singing beauty from before. She was a little older than they were, perhaps in her early twenties, and while she had dark eyes, her hair was blonde like the Nords. Clearly, she was not only the entertainment at the tavern, but also working the barmaid. "Um-could you add another ale to that order?"

"I ordered for both of us." Quinn stated.

"I said you owed me at least a round." Santana quickly shot back. The singer's eyes lit with amusement as the two girls bickered for a half second before Santana remembered she was there. "Could you add another ale to that please?"

Quinn waved her hand in defeat. It was better to let Santana have one small victory for the day than to bring up the subject of their sparring once more. "Bring whatever she says."

The barmaid-singer graciously smiled to Quinn, but batted her eyes in Santana's direction. She leaned over. "Just tell me if you need anything else. My name is Dinrah."

Santana nodded quickly and stopped herself from stammering any sort of response especially now that Quinn was paying attention. Quinn licked her lips in utter amusement and was about to respond for Santana when Dinrah turned her gaze on Quinn as well. Perhaps her voice lowered just a fraction or maybe Quinn had been distracted before, but the look in Dinrah's eyes stopped her desire to tease Santana. In fact, she felt her own cheeks flush from the dark look in the older woman's eyes.

"I'm here to service both of you." Dinrah walked away to get their ale.

Santana kicked Quinn underneath the table. The blonde warrior startled out of whatever trance the barmaid had placed on them.

"You were a total mess in front of her."

"Me?" Quinn rolled her shoulders back and opened her mouth a few time to accelerate the rush of blood still running through her cheeks. "You almost tripped over your boots when we walked in."

"I thought you didn't see that." Santana flushed again, but then countered. "Anyway you couldn't even speak just now, not that I blame you…" Santana trailed off and glanced over Quinn's shoulder to see if she could spot Dinrah. "Sharing a bunk with you wouldn't be so awful if she was in my bed roll."

"Ha!" Quinn snorted. "Talos wouldn't deem to give you such a blessing. You barely know how to hold a shield much less a woman."

Santana snapped her attention fully back to Quinn. "I could handle a woman much better than you."

"I don't think we share the same taste in bed companions. Besides, Santana, you haven't even handled one woman, but I'm sure all that bluster will help you when she realizes how _inexperienced_ you are."

"I'll have you know that I'm not inexperienced. You don't know everything about me."

"When?" Quinn threw back at Santana immediately.

Santana feigned ignorance. "When what?"

"When did you have this experience that I don't know about?"

"When you weren't around…" Santana shrugged and tried to brush off the question.

"Liar. I'm always around."

"By Talos' beard, I'm not lying!"

"Now you're a liar and a blasphemer."

"Am not. Talos' beard is his most sworn upon feature." Santana smirked and laughed as she continued. "Well…that and his other weapon…"

Quinn made a face. "A liar, a blasphemer, _and_ crass. How could I ever doubt your appeal to women?"

Santana bit back the retort she had for Quinn when she noticed Dinrah returning with a tray of ale. "She's coming back!"

"So?" Quinn teased and leaned back in her seat. "Should I tell her about which part of Talos you swear on when it's not his beard?"

"No." Santana hissed and once again kicked underneath the table.

Quinn winced and returned the kick with the heel of her boot to Santana's left knee. Santana groaned in pain and betrayal. The officer didn't outwardly smirk, but the amusement in her eyes revealed that she knew Santana had hit the ground particularly hard on her way down during their spar.

"Your ales." Whether Dinrah had noticed Quinn and Santana fighting underneath the table, she didn't comment or draw attention to it. However, she did make sure to make full eye contact with each girl as she set the ale in front of them. Santana's eyes dropped and while Quinn made an effort to meet Dinrah's gaze, she was barely able to give the singer an audible thank you. "Please let me know if I can get you anything else, ladies, ale or otherwise…"

"W-we will." Santana managed to get out.

Dinrah leaned over and smiled. "You don't mind me asking what business you have in the area? I would have remembered seeing women like yourselves."

Santana shook her head, but no words came out. She tried to ignore the color in her cheeks. No one called them women, they were addressed as recruits or trainees or still even as girls.

Quinn realized that she would have to answer the question. "Just travelling through. We have some family in Riften."

"Family?" Dinrah quirked an eyebrow. "You don't look to be sisters and you are certainly well armed for only a trip down south." She didn't hide her stare as she eyed the girls from head to toe. Both Quinn and Santana had forgotten they each bore signs of recent fighting. Quinn's jaw was bruised and Santana's eyes were dark with circles and her bottom lip was split from Quinn's shield. "-but perhaps you have already known some trouble on your journey."

Dinrah inched closer to Santana and with all the subtly of an ice giant, she ran her finger along Santana's forearm as she waited for an answer.

Santana's eyes instantly dropped to the nail running up her arm as she struggled to find the words to explain their relationship. "Friends."

"What my companion means, is that we are friends, lifelong friends making a journey to visit kin. As for your other observation, I can only tell you we are as armed as our fathers intended and as skilled as our mothers made us." Quinn completed a line of blessing she had once heard a grandmother in the market give to her granddaughter as a way to deflect Dinrah's question of how well equipped they were.

"It must be a welcome boon to travel with such a close companion." Dinrah nodded in Quinn's direction. "And you must forgive me for intruding; I had mistaken you for soldiers from the nearby fort."

Quinn lifted her chin the smallest amount at the mention of the Stormcloaks. Pride laced her tongue and her eyes revealed more than her intentions. "You do us a great compliment to think such."

"Again-" The singing barmaid addressed both girls. "-I am at your service for anything you desire." She punctuated the word desire before she walked away.

Quinn didn't give Santana a second to recover before she kicked her again. "I bet you won't say three more words to her."

"I will and when I'm done, it'll be more than just three words between us."

"I bet you the cost of those ales I just paid for."

"Prepare to pay twice, Fabray." Santana raised her ale and tapped the edge of Quinn's. It would be the last time they would be able to get away from either of their duties. This would be the last time they would truly be friends in the real sense of the word. Quinn would make her father and all of Skyrim proud as the commander her father, Russel, would have been and the relationship between Quinn and Santana would be that of a commander to a jarl. Santana tried to mask any emotion from her voice as she held Quinn's gaze. "A toast to your upcoming promotion, officer. "

"And to your inevitable adventure away from here."

Nothing would be the same.

* * *

It was an unusually dark night as the stars were obscured by clouds. Despite the overcast, the air was light and bounced with summer's promise of good harvest and rest. Santana readjusted the small firebox she attached to her horse's saddle to shed a little more light on their pathway. It was dangerous to travel at night, but these were Jarl Ulfric's lands and in the heart of the Pale. It would take a bold bandit to make an attack only miles from Fort Morvunskar. Normally, they would have spent the night at the tavern and travelled early in the morning, but Quinn would have duties in the morning to perform as an officer and neither woman wanted to risk further attention from Commander Yrsarald.

A playful silence had settled between the two companions as they rode back to the fort.

Somehow it didn't seem fair that Santana had borne the brunt of their fight earlier in the day and now wore the lighter purse after their respite at the tavern. She tried not to scowl or pretend that she even cared that Quinn had won their wager.

However, Quinn deliberately clinked the coins in her hand together just loud enough for Santana to hear. Santana glared, but she bit the inside of her cheeks to refrain from saying a word. She had made it halfway back to the fort without giving into Quinn's desire to tease her and she wasn't about to lose the last shred of pride she possessed.

"You know, Santana…" Quinn teased. "…my favorite part was when she asked you for a song request and you couldn't think of one song. You couldn't even remember Ragnar the Red and that's your favorite."

"I requested it…" Santana grumbled.

"No. You said Rmraaread or whatever you mumbled." Quinn tossed one of the coins in the air and caught it with her other hand. "This was the easiest coin I've made in a while. It's a good thing you have that nice purse from you father; perhaps we should make more wagers."

Santana glowered in her saddle and squeezed the reins to her horse tighter. Of course Quinn knew that Santana had lost most of the coin her father had given her while gambling late at night with the recruits. She would have to be careful how she spent the last of her coin. Santana would never seek to acquire more coin that she didn't earn and earning money at the Fort was near impossible without winning it back the same way she had lost it. Santana picked up the pace with her horse.

Quinn casually did the same. She pocketed the coins in her purse and leveled with her companion. It would do no good to continue teasing Santana. Quinn knew her companion's limits and she knew there were still unspoken words and thoughts between them.

Her voice was laced with concerns and the desire to assuage the overwhelming uncertainty they were both feeling. "I'm sure your tutor will be delayed another few days. It is a long journey to make across the length of Skyrim. He is sure to be delayed at some point."

Santana nodded as if she refused to be comforted.

Quinn continued. "And he will probably want to remain close to Windhelm, if not go to Windhelm for winter if he is from Solitude, he won't know the area. We could spend the winter together in the city and it would benefit us both to continue training together."

Again, Santana refused to respond.

Quinn sighed as she realized neither of them had enough ale to really break down their defenses to speak candidly about their impending separation. "Santana, we have to move on sometime. It lasted longer than it should have. Most sparring companions our age are split apart by the age of twelve."

Santana shook her head in aggressive agreement, but she already felt the loneliness and separation. The only reason she had felt comfortable at the fort was because of Quinn's presence. She knew what the other officers whispered and what Yrsarald's eyes revealed when he looked at her– she was an outsider. They questioned her existence from the dark of her hair to the depth of her eyes. What if she wasn't blood kin of Ulfric? What if she was a mutt seated and in line for his crown?

For Quinn's honor, Santana fought off the gnawing doubts in her chest. She waved her hand to stop Quinn from saying anymore. It would have shamed them both to say the reason for his discomfort. "It's whatever, Quinn. I will survive and most likely run off this next tutor and the one after that and the one after that until my father has no choice but to release me."

Quinn openly smiled at Santana's plans for her instructors and then snorted. "Hopefully this new tutor has more skill than the Bone-Breaker you sent home today."

Santana openly laughed. "By Talos, he was pathetic!"

"How did he even work himself into being your tutor? He must have thought he landed a dream assignment to train the Jarl's young daughter. He'll be regretting it for a very long time."

Santana laughed. "I could have beaten him with my eyes closed."

"For once, I don't think you're wrong."

Finally they both stopped laughing and looked forward over the dark road before them. Unnatural light in the distance caught their eyes and halted their conversation. Santana reached between their horses and dimmed the fire box on her saddle to make sure it wasn't a trick of light. Instead, the light in the distance only seemed to brighten.

"Do you see that?" Santana pointed.

Quinn's mouth drew a tight line before she spurred her horse forward down the road. "That's the fort! It's on fire!"

"Shit!" Santana swore and tossed the fire box from her saddle so that it wouldn't be a danger and dug her heels into the flanks of her own horse to follow after. "Ya! Ya! Ride!"

Their horses were well bred and strong and luckily sure of foot as their riders spurred them hard toward the fort. As they got closer, the flames were more distinguishable and cast strange shadows over the landscape. The sounds of shouts echoed and carried to their ears. Santana pulled abreast of Quinn. They would have to help douse the flames and rescues those that were in the infirmary if they were too weak or injured to escape.

They crested the last hill to the fort and while their eyes widened, they never slowed down. The fort was engulfed in flames and there were shadows on the ramparts, the sound of steel clashing on steel rang through the air and stuck in Santana's stomach. They had dealt with bandits, but never an attack. Who would be fool enough to attack an entire fort?

She glanced to her right and met Quinn's stare. Without saying a word, they both loosed their weapons. The fire would have to wait. They rode toward the back entrance of the fort as it was obvious the entrance had been compromised.

"Leave the horses." Quinn jumped from her saddle and ran to a hidden crack in the wall. It wasn't a well-known entrance, but one she had been shown as an officer. Santana quickly followed and unsheathed her two short swords.

Quinn had yet to unsheathe her sword and only unstrapped the shield from her back. The reinforced wood pressed against her chest as she squeezed through the crevice and unlocked the hidden entrance. Santana's shoulder rubbed against hers as she squeezed next to Quinn. The feel of Santana's cloth shirt against her own shirt settled deep in Quinn's stomach as she realized they were unprotected.

"We don't know who is attacking or how many there are." Quinn whispered as she waited for the locking mechanism on the door to work. "We need to be smart. The sleeping quarters are nearby. If we can head there first, we can arm ourselves properly."

Santana nodded and adjusted the grip on her swords. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest and she could feel her muscles reacting to the rush of adrenaline pumping into her body. Her breathing felt uneven and her brow was already dripping sweat, a combination of the fire and the inevitable fight. Santana struggled to keep emotion from her voice. "Then what?"

Santana hated that she couldn't tell if Quinn shared the same range of emotions and she didn't know if Quinn could hear those emotions in Santana's voice.

"We make our way to Commander Yrsarald. There is no reason to attack the fort unless someone is trying to send a message by killing one of the Jarl's commanders. His presence in a recruit fort made him vulnerable. It's the perfect time to attack and the only motive that makes sense." The door finally released. Quinn hesitated and for a brief moment, Santana sensed they shared the same misgivings. But whatever words she wanted to share with Santana, they were consumed by the sound of nearby battle.

Quinn nodded and pushed off the crevice.

The entrance led to an old pantry that had been forgotten and sparingly used. Quinn cautiously cracked the door to gauge the situation in the hallways. She could feel Santana's nervous energy pressing against her back, but she ignored her own anxiety as she looked through the hallway. The sounds of fighting were close, but she saw neither fellow soldier nor their attackers.

"Let's go." Quinn pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. Without hesitation, she tightened the straps of her shield and drew her blade.

Santana exited the pantry and immediately started walking toward the sleeping quarters. Her dark hair was bound in a ponytail and the only protection on her body was the gold circlet which rarely left her head. They moved quickly down the hallway. Santana took point with her two swords nervously dancing in tight circles in the air. More shouts and the sounds of nearby fighting grew louder, but they reached the sleeping quarters without seeing a Stormcloak or an invader.

"Move quickly." Quinn urged Santana. She settled into the middle of the room and glanced to both the doors on either side of the room. "Get geared first and I will keep guard."

Santana ripped open the trunk at the bottom of their bunk and pulled out the chainmail shirt. She pulled it over her head and adjusted the ties to her bracers and thin metal shin guards. She dropped the dulled practice blades and removed the short swords made for her by the Windhelm smith before she left the city. She noticed Quinn's shield next to her trunk.

"Quinn!" Santana tossed Quinn's personal shield across the room.

Quinn easily caught her shield and placed the unmarked practice shield on the closest bed. Instantly, the young warrior relaxed. The bright blue that colored the Bear of Windhelm stood out against the dim light of the barracks. Quinn pulled back her long blonde braid and tucked it into the back of her shirt. Her eyes expressed gratitude even as she pushed Santana to hurry. "Finish quickly. We have to assist the Commander."

Santana strapped the last of her armor in place and unsheathed her dual blades.

The far door to the sleeping quarters burst open from a violent kick. Both girls froze. A man dressed in a mix of armors from different styles and sets stood with a large flail dangling from a heavy chain in his hands. He panted hard and his eyes were wild with adrenaline from fighting. He instantly spotted the two girls. A wicked smile smeared in freshly painted blood spread across his face with menacing intent.

The swords in Santana's hands felt heavy and her chest shook with uneven breaths. The blood on his armor was so fresh, she wondered if the spirit of his or her owner was still bound to the body. Swords and shields clashed in the hallway. Santana could see there was a great battle taking place outside of the sleeping quarters, but the large invader ignored everything else. He turned and bolted the door to prevent the girls from escaping or from anyone helping them.

Quinn sized him up. He was eager to lunge for them and thirsted for more battle, but he restrained himself. She adjusted her shield and cautiously drew her blade. He wasn't like the hungry men they had encountered during their trip to Markarth. His eyes were hungry for more than food. He outmatched them in strength, body weight, and experience. Alone, the blood on his face was a sign of survival during the attack. He was no stranger to violence.

The moment the door slammed shut, Santana jumped into action.

"Patience, Santana!" Quinn yelled, but it was too late. Santana charged over cots and around trunks. Her swords spun in wicked tight circles and gained momentum.

"Get your gear, Quinn!" Santana broke over the last obstacle separating her from her opponent. "I can handle this."

Quinn ignored Santana's command and leapt to join Santana. Santana yelled and propelled herself from a stool into the air. Her swords aimed straight for the man's throat. He easily step-sided her attack and her momentum sent her sliding across the room.

"Over here!" Quinn shouted to give Santana a second to recover. He smirked and seemingly ignored Quinn as he stepped toward Santana. "Come on!"

At the last second, he raised the flail in his hand whipped it in Quinn's direction, but she was ready. She bounced back to avoid his flail. He smirked as if he was pleased to see neither teenager would be an easy kill. The flail spun faster and shot out towards the blonde haired girl. Santana quickly reentered the fight with a shout and tried to strike back at his attacks. Soon, it was a full blown duel between the two girls and the man.

He met every attack with a block or counter of his own. Santana had never seen someone use a flail with such skill. He spun it in the air with vicious speed and accuracy. Whenever either Santana or Quinn thought they had gained an advantage, he would grip the head of flail and use the chain as a way to block their closer attacks.

The fighters gave no quarter.

Santana continued swiping furiously at the man while Quinn patiently waited for an opening that never came. The clash of steel and shield erupted through the room. Their boots dragged and jumped from stone to stone or over beds and trunks. The flail wreaked havoc wherever it fell. It shattered wood and dented the floor. The way he swung it with no regard for his stamina and with no signs of slowing, it was as if he were on some sort of enhancing brew. Quinn and Santana had a hard time not running into each other, much less keeping up with his pace. The smell of sweat, blood, and determination filled the space around them. This was nothing like any fight they had ever experienced. One mistake would mean death.

At the far end of the room, the other door started to rattle.

Quinn glanced back and noticed it wouldn't hold much longer. "Santana! Get the door! I'll hold him off!"

"But-"

Quinn gave her a hard shove and blocked a particularly hard swing from the man's flail, but it put her off balance. "Go!"

Santana grunted in disagreement, but she broke away from the fight. She sprinted through the sleeping quarters toward the other entrance. As much as she wanted to look back to make sure Quinn was holding her own, Santana kept her head down and worked quickly to create a barricade.

Quinn, however, had been so focused on gaining his attention, she barely raised her sword and shield to block his next attack. He must have noticed the way Quinn's concentration divided on Santana and his flail. He feigned making a move to follow Santana, Quinn reacted immediately to put herself in a position to ward him away from her companion. He smiled with pleasure as the move tricked the young officer to committing a false step. He took advantage of her vulnerable position and with deft quickness he lunged at the off-balance and unsuspecting teen. The force of his attack propelled Quinn back into a bunk bed behind her. She cracked her head against the hard wood and dropped to the ground. Her body went straight into shock and she struggled to keep consciousness.

"Quinn!" Santana managed to blockade the other door and turn in time to see her friend fall. He took a menacing step in Quinn's direction. Santana broke from the door and shouted to gain his attention. "You Talos cursed fucker!" Without waiting, she charged forward once more and swung her swords toward him.

His movements were almost lazy as he shifted his attention from Quinn to Santana. He spun the flail three times before he tossed it toward Santana. She was moving too fast to break her direction or avoid the blistering attack. She crossed her swords and braced for impact. The flail crashed into the flat of her blades. Its weight caught against the steel and her right sword snapped, but it wasn't enough to stop the heavy head of metal. Santana ducked in time to avoid it crushing her face and then rolled forward to avoid the follow through of the chain. The flail snapped back with wicked speed over her head. Santana's eyes quickly flicked to Quinn, but she was down and not moving.

She didn't wait for him to send the weapon back; Santana charged straight in. Chain, flail head, and sword met over and over again. Santana could hardly keep from getting hit while he seemed to barely move; every one of his steps brought him closer to Quinn's still body. Santana tried to outmaneuver him, but she was completely outmatched. Every one of his attacks drew closer and each time she met his attack with a block of her sword, she could feel her muscles straining just a little harder to lift her blade the next time. He anticipated all of her strikes with ones of his own. All Santana could manage was to defend.

Santana struggled to match the man's pace. Her footing was getting loose and her frustration mounted. She couldn't understand how he gave her no room to counter and how he beat her back at every turn. She had easily bested the Bone-Breaker and every opponent she had ever faced, but she couldn't seem to stop defending. Finally, she found the smallest opening and thrust her entire body forward, as she had done to the Bone-Breaker in the practice yard. Except the invader was more experienced, he circled the chain of his flail around Santana's sword and snapped it closed. Her sword stopped and for a second, she was able to fight him from control. She yanked back and tried to wrest her sword from the chain, but he violently twisted the metal and flung her sword away.

Defenseless and exposed, Santana's heart jumped to her throat. She had no way out. Her eyes widened and a cold shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

She was dead.

But the attacker didn't turn his flail on her. His face contorted into sweet victory as if he savored every moment of Santana's defeat, but he wanted more. He licked his lips and swung his flail in languid circles around his head and locked eyes with the young fighter. Santana took a half step back.

His accent was thick, but was unmistakably Nord. "I'm saving you for last, _Stormcloak_ girl _."_

The way he said Stormcloak; it was a surname, not a title. Another cold shiver ran down her body. Commander Yrsarald wasn't the target; she was. No matter how hard she had tried to separate herself from her father and make a name distant from his throne, it felt like a cruel irony that she would be killed for the name they shared. She steeled herself for the final blow.

But it never came. The man gave her the ultimate sign of disrespect and turned his back to the defeated Santana. The chills in her body turned to boiling heat as she understood he meant to kill Quinn first.

"No!" Santana lurched forward to join Quinn on the ground. She didn't care if he killed her, but she wouldn't let him kill Quinn without another fight.

The man let Santana join Quinn without attacking. He watched Santana try and pull Quinn away from him. His eyes laughed more than his stern mouth and his words were laced with callous sadism. "I've always wanted to kill two birds with one stone."

He leaned back and started to spin the flail in a high circle above his head. Santana's heart jumped to her throat knowing that she still had time to dodge his attack, but he would kill Quinn. Her eyes darted frantically for something – anything – that could save them – save Quinn. She didn't know what she was doing, what she was touching, what she was reaching for, but her fingers found something solid.

She lifted it in the air.

His flail crashed into the front of Quinn's Windhelm shield. Santana grunted at the impact and struggled to keep her arm up. He withdrew the flail and swung again. She lifted the shield higher this time as she had heard Quinn yelling at recruits to do in the practice field. Again, the shield held the attack; the bright blue Bear bore the brunt of his brutal attack. The man's eyes were no longer drunk in victory, but impatient and agitated at Santana's last show of defiance.

Santana stood with the shield in front of her and Quinn. It felt heavy and bulky, but it was the only option she had left. He started to attack once more in earnest – he had grown tired of their fight, but he couldn't break the shield or the girl holding it. Santana tried to push back, but was stopped by the flail. Her only option was to stand above Quinn's body and pray to the Divines for deliverance.

It wouldn't be long. Her arm sagged and her shoulders strained against each attack. She knew he could hear the sound the cracking wood. He was wearing her down.

"Your death would have been quick, but now I will make sure you both suffer before I deliver your head to your father."

Santana didn't have the energy to respond or take advantage of his threats to lunge forward. Her attempts to attack him had produced little but defeat. Santana pushed back her dark hair and widened her stance as she had seen Quinn do earlier that day.

He tilted his head as if he had not been expecting Santana to pause during their fight. The flail head started spinning again, but Santana didn't take the bait. She waited and slowly shifted her weight from one boot to the other as she struck a balance between herself, the shield, and the hard stone floor. He gritted his teeth and growled trying to get Santana to commit to attacking him, but she resisted his taunt and flexed her fingers around the leather straps behind the Windhelm shield.

When he realized that Santana was content to wait him out, the man let out a howl and whipped the flail straight at her.

Santana's first instinct was to instantly avoid the flail head, but she stayed motionless for a second longer. She cleared her mind and at the last second, she dropped her right foot back, like Quinn had done that morning, and allowed the flail head to fly past her face. With the chain exposed right in front of her, Santana quickly snapped the bottom edge of the shield down. It caught the chain and ripped the flail from their attacker's hand. Santana didn't give him a chance to react. She rushed forward with Quinn's shield held high in front of her. He punched at the Bear of Windhelm, but his fist did nothing to stop the full force of the shield against his face. Santana batted him again and again until they both fell in a heap to the ground. The sound of bones cracking filled the air, but Santana didn't stop. She huffed and exhaled with every blow she made with the shield until the door to the sleeping quarters burst open.

Santana leaped from the attacker's body and raised Quinn's shield in anticipation of more attackers. Red ran down the cracks in the wood frame and her heart pounded so hard Santana was sure the adrenaline pumping through her body make her pass out, but she wouldn't let one person approach Quinn without giving them a fight.

But there were no more attackers.

Relief flooded from the first soldier to enter the room. "Santana, Daughter of Ulfric!" He turned back to shout out in the hallway. "We found the Jarl's daughter! She is alive and –" His eyes scanned the room and found Quinn on the ground still breathing. " – Call the healer!"

Santana's shoulders sagged and her head swayed back from exhaustion as the sight of her father's soldier meant an end to fighting. She took a step forward and pointed back to their attacker without saying a word.

The Stormcloak at the doorway rushed forward to the man's body. He bent over him. "She didn't kill him."

Santana didn't know why the soldier's statement sent a chill through her body. She hadn't even thought of the possibility of killing another man – she had just wanted to survive – she had just wanted to protect Quinn.

"Good." Commander Yrsarald stepped into the room. His armor was covered with blood and his eyes were still hard. He looked as though he had been through the battlefield once and could still fight another army. Conversely, Santana could barely steady herself as she crouched down next to Quinn and she had only fought one man, not an army. Yrsarald observed the two girls and continued barking orders. "Chain him and put him into a holding cell with guards posted. I want to interrogate him after we clear the rest of the fort of his comrades."

His hard eyes quickly assessed the room and the outcome of the fight before finally meeting Santana's weary gaze. "See to it that Officer Fabray is treated immediately." Yrsarald hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say more to Santana. His eyes bore into the shield strapped to her arm and the blood running down the Bear of Windhelm, but it wasn't pride in his eyes, it was something more pensive, more apprehensive. "It would have done you both better to have not returned to the fort while we were under attack."

Santana met his stare with the last of her strength. "Officer Fabray never hesitated."

"Hmmph." He grunted and swept out of the room. His boots made soft noises as he left bloodied footprints back out into the corridor.

* * *

It was late that night after they had cleared the fort, stripped the corpses, dug graves, and prayed to Talos that Santana quietly spoke her companion's name.

"Quinn?"

The officer had been resting on the bottom mattress of their bunk with a bandage around her head. The Commander had visited with her earlier that day and a few officers and soldiers had come by. She wasn't injured so much as tired from the fight. The bump on the back of her head had been hard, especially without a helmet, but Quinn had already felt better by midday. It would be a quick recovery.

Neither of them had been able to sleep. Quinn's thoughts had been on the Commander's words from earlier that day. She could hear every word still ringing in her head.

 _Yrsarald sat next to her bed, but his presence was only mildly comforting. His voice was deep, but it didn't travel through the sleeping quarters. His words were for Quinn's ears only. "It was foolish to bring Santana back to the fort."_

" _We saw it burning. I just reacted. I thought you were in trouble. The fort was filled with recruits – it made you vulnerable. I know how valuable you are to the Jarl."_

" _How valuable I am?" Yrsarald barked with laughter and leaned closer. "I am but the Jarl's sword and swords can always be replaced, but Santana? That is his daughter. The man who attacked you wouldn't reveal his true contract, but he knew the Jarl's kin fetches a much greater price than one of his many commanders. I am replaceable; his daughter is not."_

" _But-" Quinn stopped herself from protesting as she recalled the delight in the man's eyes as he recognized Santana in the sleeping quarters. Recognition filled her with dread. "I brought the Jarl's daughter straight into danger." She shook her head violently. "I have failed in my duties twice in one day. Commander, please allow me to resign before stripping me of my rank for the sake of my mother."_

 _Yrsarald chuckled to himself. Quinn's eyes revealed she didn't find his response appropriate for her sincere request. He nodded his head in respect. "Anyone who compares you to your father only insults your honor, Quinn." He stood from the stool next to her bed. "You are young and you have made a few mistakes – ones I am sure you will never repeat. I reject your request for resignation."_

" _Bu-"_

" _You will instead resume your duties first thing in the morning, Officer Fabray. Most of these recruits have been tested in a trial by fire today. They, like yourself and Santana, are survivors. They will be hardened and more committed than ever because of it. I think you will find them to be better recruits than they were a day earlier."_

Quinn still had a hard time swallowing Yrsarald's reveal that she had endangered Santana by returning to the fort. Where did her line of honor draw? Between the Jarl's family or her military duty to the Jarl?

Still, she didn't mention her conversation with the Commander to Santana. Quietly, to not wake anyone who might be rest nearby. "Yes, Santana?"

Santana swallowed; they would have died if Quinn hadn't beaten the shit out of her with the shield. She couldn't forget the cold chills that ran down her body as she realized they would both die. She never wanted to feel that helpless ever again. Even if she disliked the shield, she couldn't shake knowing that without it, they would have died. "Do you think you could show me a few things with the shield tomorrow?"

Quinn didn't know whether to smile or recognize the subtle shift their lives had taken. It was easier to focus on the training, focus on weapons, focus on shields and swords and footing and parrying. It was easier; it was what she knew. It was what she was good at and somehow it might have saved both Santana's and her life. Santana had been the one to pick up her shield, but for some reason, Quinn felt as if her arm had strained from carrying its weight. "Yeah. I think I could do that."

" _Remember duty never ends when we choose for it to end, for some, duty is the only means by which they are tethered to ground and the sky. Duty is both the anchor and the noose by which they are bound." He paused as if deciding to say aloud the very words he knew were true, but which would condemn the young woman to the only life Yrsarald knew she would fully live. "And by my honor on Talos, know that your duty, Quinn, Daughter of Fabray, is just beginning."_

 **END**

 **PART I**


	2. Part II: Stripped Bear

**Inevitable separation and the uncertainties of finding a place of acceptance lead Santana and Quinn to make difficult decisions regarding each other and themselves. Every path leads to more unforeseeable consequences as they struggle to find their way.**

* * *

 **She Who Bears the Shield Part II**

 **Stripped Bear**

The light of an early Summer morning graced the ramparts of Fort Morvunskar and welcomed the sound of soft footfalls over broken stone and planks. Recent signs of battle still lingered like soot over the old stones and painted a tale of frantic conflict. The occasional dark stain on the pathways or on the hallway walls could have been spilled oil set aflame, magicka, or even the remnant of blood. Recruits had spilt their time for the past two weeks between training sessions and making repairs to the fort.

But despite the early morning, the ramparts were alive with the sound of heavy breathing and rapidly moving bodies.

Boot heels filled with caution and toes tipped in daring made quick steps over Morvunskar's high walls. Santana shuffled backways over the plank of lumber the recruits had fashioned as a makeshift walkway to cross the broken rampart of the east wall. It was getting harder to find her footing and keep an eye on the sword swinging toward her face.

She made a solid step back and was rewarded without falling to her death. The young teen took a second to glance down. The courtyard was just starting to show signs of life as recruits hurried around the fort to fulfill their chores before they were summoned for morning practice. The guard shifts, which had increased dramatically since the attack, were changing and a few merchants and traders were making their way into the fort to meet with the quartermaster.

It all seemed so different; so small from high above. It would have been peaceful to spend the morning watching the fort life with no responsibilities or demands. Santana wondered if this was what life was like for the merchants haggling prices with the quartermaster below. A young girl, probably the same age as Santana, with long golden blonde hair stood near one of the traders. Her bright blue eyes peered curiously up and met Santana's gaze. The blonde haired teen tilted her head but didn't look confused to see Santana teetering dangerously on a plank, instead she looked amused. Her mouth quirked in a secret smile meant only for Santana's eyes. For a second, Santana felt as if time suspended at that exact moment so they could see each other. She had never put much stock in the Divines or Talos, but their eyes seemed fated and drawn to meet.

But Santana couldn't linger in the girl's gaze.

Her footing unexpectedly shifted as a second body leapt onto the plank. Santana inhaled sharply as she felt the world beneath her tilt. She instantly readjusted and tightened her abdomen to find balance. She whipped her head up just in time to raise her shield against Quinn's sword. The officer's blade bit into the wood frame.

The plank slowly started to break away from the one side of the wall, but Quinn seemed completely unconcerned that they could fall to their death. Santana raised her shield once more, but Quinn dropped low on the beam and aimed to take Santana's legs.

Santana gritted her teeth and jumped to avoid the swipe, but Quinn was fast, faster than she showed in the training circles below. Her blonde braid looked like a whip, the way her body dipped and jolted forward with such sure footing that Santana doubted what she was seeing. It was as if Quinn moved like she were on a completely different plank, as if she couldn't feel the board shifting and ready to give out. Santana tried to risk a glance down to make sure she had the right footing, but Quinn stomped on the plank. The entire board wobbled and Santana threw her hands out to regain balance.

It wasn't enough. Quinn sent a swift kick to Santana's midsection. Santana lost whatever balance she had and tipped over the plank. As she fell, Santana frantically tried to grab onto anything that would stop herself from falling. The shield strap wound round her right arm slipped and the shield dangled and jerked as her left hand found the edge of the plank. A rush of wind and adrenaline pumped through her as she searched for Quinn. She tried to stop kicking her feet and to center her weight, but it was hard to concentrate when she could feel the wind whipping around her exposed body just waiting to carry her down to her death.

"Quinn!" Santana cried out and tried to readjust her hold, but her fingers started to slip.

Quinn's hand shot out and wrapped around Santana's dangling arm. Santana sighed in relief to feel her friend's hold. Together they lifted and pulled up until Santana was safely back standing on the plank. Santana panted hard and held a hand to her chest to try and calm herself.

"You oka-"

"What do you think? I almost fel-" Santana swatted Quinn's arm away, but the sudden movement caused the board to shift once more.

"Let's get back on the stone before you try and send me off the ramparts too." Quinn said and gave Santana a slight nudge to move across the gap. They quickly and carefully crossed the last part of the plank and hopped back to the ramparts.

Santana unstrapped the loose bindings to the shield on her arm and tossed it across the stones as she set foot on solid ground. She wasted no time as she appreciated _not_ falling to her death. She collapsed in an exhausted heap and turned on her back to stare up at the morning sky above. Not even a second later, Quinn joined her. For a few minutes, the two teenage girls rested side by side and gazed wordlessly at the clouds passing above them.

"You need to work on your footwork." Quinn finally said.

Santana huffed and turned her head. "I don't need to work on my footwork. You need to stop being an ass. You almost killed me."

"I wouldn't have almost killed you if you worked on your footing." Quinn met Santana's stare with her own. "And-" Quinn didn't smile, but her eyes lit with pleasure. " – and you need to use your shield better."

"What!?" Now Santana was offended. They had been working on the shield for two weeks. She should have mastered the thing by now. "What do you mean I need to do better? You didn't even hit me! I blocked all of your attacks except that last one which was dirty and indefensible."

Quinn sighed in mock exasperation. They had been working at the shield for two weeks together either in the dead of night when everyone except the guard was sleeping or in the early morning. However, this was the first time Quinn had dragged Santana up to the ramparts to practice. Yet, it was the same song and dance with Santana – she expected to master the shield after one day and didn't understand why Quinn hadn't given her absolute mastery yet.

"It was defensible, Santana, if you wouldn't have gotten yourself into a bad situation."

"You put me in that situation!" Santana quickly defended herself. "You're the one who backed me onto the plank."

"I didn't anything to you." Quinn said with measured patience. Sometimes it took Santana longer to process concepts because she was always looking for the quickest way out of any situation – including fighting. " _You_ are the one who is supposed to be in control. You let me take control. If I am the one dictating the flow of combat, then I am in control, and it's only a matter of time until I kill you."

"Ugh." Santana lazily punched Quinn's arm. "The shield is so hard."

"That's because you're still only using it like _a shield_." Quinn said shield in Santana's voice to mock her friend. "If you used the shield as your ally or even as part of your arm like you do with your swords, it wouldn't be so difficult."

Santana sighed. "Or maybe if you didn't pick such a dangerous place to practice, I might have a chance of beating you. You were probably out here practicing by yourself so you would have an advantage this morning."

"You always have to complain about something. I chose up here because I know you, Santana, and you would have resented exchanging traditional swings and blocks in the courtyard especially with everyone watching."

Santana opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn't deny Quinn's assessment. Still, it felt strange to just agree with Quinn.

Quinn dipped her head, stray wisps of unbound long blonde hair hid parts of her face, but not her smirk. "Please, Santana, I know I have to keep you entertained and challenged or you'll get bored and unruly."

"I am never unruly."

Quinn didn't even bother to argue with Santana's statement. "But were you at least challenged?"

"Whatever, Quinn." Santana rolled her eyes with a smile before glancing down to the courtyard from where they were laying. The angle was different, but she could still see most of the field. The merchant and the blonde haired girl were gone; their business with the quartermaster must have concluded. Santana didn't know why she felt the urge to look for the girl for a second time. It was an odd tug something akin to a desire that pulled at her stomach, but she was gone. Santana tried not to dwell on what felt like a loss. She turned back to her self-satisfied friend. "Don't you have some recruits to crack over the head or some commander's ass to kiss this morning?"

Quinn had learned Santana didn't like to admit defeat of any kind – verbal or physical – so she accepted that her companion would change the subject when she couldn't see a way to win whatever they were arguing. It didn't make Quinn's victory any less satisfying.

"I actually kissed the commander's ass enough last night. I think he relieved me of ass kissing duty and put me strictly on ass kicking duty this morning. I got a head start with you –" Quinn's eyes sparkled. "- but I've got both morning patrols with the recruits."

"Fun." Santana didn't even bother to hide her lack of enthusiasm. "It should be a great time marching around the woods scaring up the animals."

Quinn gave Santana a moment for her reactionary distain to ebb before speaking. Softly, as if she knew what dangerous waters she was wading, Quinn suggested. "You could always join us. You know you're welcome to scare the wildlife with us."

"Oh sure! You might welcome me, but you'll be the only one." Santana stopped upon seeing the way Quinn's eyes softened at Santana's immediate reaction to the suggestion. She dipped her head in some shame for taking her frustration out on the only person she considered a friend at the fort. Her voice changed tone as she silently implored Quinn to forgive her rash words. "Thanks anyway, Quinn, but I prefer waiting out the rest of my term here without joining the recruits. Yrsarald made it very clear that my time here is temporary and unwelcome."

"Santana, you _would_ be welcomed here if you just submitted even a little to authority. That's how it works, you have to bend sometimes to stand tall. That's how an army functions; that's what creates discipline."

Santana's eyes darkened and she turned from Quinn to look over the courtyard once more. The banner of Windhelm should have felt like home, but since Yrsarald's arrival and news of her dismissal to train with a tutor spread through the ranks, the fort felt hostile. It was as if a brand on her skin announced _not one of us_.

She whispered fierce and low as if she didn't want to say her words aloud. "If I submit even a little to him or any of them, they will see me as less. They will think they can cow me with their words, with their distain, with their doubts. I know what they say about me. I know what they think about me. I know my father wants me to take the Bear to fit in and solidify my place, but even if I were the perfect warrior, would that stop their words? They would still question if I belonged – do I try too hard? Could I ever be enough? They would whisper the same distrust, but with different words."

Quinn's cheeks lit with shame for Santana and the hard path she saw herself on. They never talked about this – not openly. Sure, Quinn heard whispers and the looks, but neither of them had voiced it. Her throat constricted and she lost any words because what words would salve the wounds Santana bore? Cautiously, but knowing her touch wouldn't be rejected, Quinn reached out and lightly brushed Santana's forearm.

Even if Quinn couldn't see Santana's face, she felt small tremors through their connection. It pained Quinn more than any weapon ever did to see her friend so defeated. She leaned over and whispered next to Santana's head.

"You were enough when you saved me – more than enough, Santana. You know you always have a place with me." When Santana said nothing, Quinn continued. "What is it you like to say? _To Talos with them_."

Even without seeing Santana, Quinn felt her companion's smirk and eyes brighten to hear Quinn – Officer Quinn who never took Talos's name – cuss so brazenly. Santana finally turned back to face Quinn. She couldn't hide the passion that burned in her eyes as she repeated Quinn's words with conviction. "To Talos with them."

They shared a small, secret smile. It harbored promises of friendship and the future of perhaps something better for both of them. They stayed on the ramparts, high above the rest of the fort and waited for the large white cloud to pass over their resting area before they finally stood up and made their way back down to join the morning routine of the fort. Neither of them mentioned their discussion, but when they parted for the day, their eyes held memories and gratitude that couldn't quite be verbalized.

* * *

A deep voice warned from a short distance away. "Careful, Santana!"

Santana responded with a snort. "I've got it. Don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing."

Kenneth Tanaka lifted a large box from the back of a wagon and placed it on the ground. He didn't bother to hide his frown as Santana struggled to carry a crate twice her weight toward the smithy. Somehow the young girl managed to maneuver the crate just enough to not seriously injure herself or damage his material.

Santana straightened out with a satisfied smirk on her face. "I'm not the little girl who used to run around your forge anymore."

"Of course you're not, but you're still a rascal." He wiped sweat dripping down his face and gave Santana a big smile. "I do have to thank you for the help. I didn't know if they would have all of the recruits out. I was lucky you came along. I hate sweating unless I'm at my forge."

"You picked a bad time to move forges." Santana nodded to the sun already high in the sky.

"I picked nothing. I am subject to my Jarl's will."

"That doesn't seem right."

"But it is and I am happy to be in his service. Plus…" Tanaka puffed himself up. "I think he's making renovations to my forge in Windhelm. So I am not too upset with making a temporary move."

"You're not here to watch me or anything?"

"Ha!" Tanaka laughed and clutched at the crate next to him. "Watch you!? I hope not. I don't have time to go hopping around the fort and the countryside. I am a blacksmith! I have soldiers to armor." He peered at her closely. "Is there a reason I should be watching you?"

Santana shook her head fiercely and regretted saying anything. "No. I was just wondering."

"Well keep yourself out of trouble." Tanaka stated before he glanced behind Santana to some approaching officers. "Or at least don't get caught."

Santana appreciated that Tanaka never pried or asked why she wasn't with the other recruits on a patrol. He just merely accepted her assistance.

"I like the second option more." Santana turned to the two officers, but she didn't straighten or incline her head like a recruit. She met their authority with an attempt at indifference. "Can I or the good smith help either of you two?"

"Commander Yrsarald has requested your presence in the main hall."

"Tell him I'm coming." Tanaka stated and waved his hand.

"Not you, smithy, the Jarl's daughter."

Santana almost looked to Tanaka guiltily before she remembered his words. She wasn't in trouble and even if she were, what could the commander do with her except send her away? Which had been his plan from the beginning.

"Lead on." Santana fell in step behind the two officers – they were Bone-Breakers like the lackey her father had sent to be her nursemaid.

It wasn't long before they made their way into what amounted to a command room for strategy and what had been used as the fort's base of operations since they had reclaimed the fort for the purpose of training a better army for Windhelm. Perhaps Santana had just grown used to the look of her father's war room to be intimidated to a summons from a commander. The maps on Yrsarald's table were quaint and local. They showed hunting trails, trade routes, and small outposts whereas her father's table held armies and lines of allegiance; points of entry and positions of attack. What she didn't expect were the circles and obvious additions to the fort's map. There were creases and worn edges where the commander's belt rubbed against the map. Clearly, Yrsarald had not forgotten about the swift and well executed invasion to the fort and he spent long hours trying to pinpoint its origin.

Santana was used to entering her father's war room from a side door, not from the main entrance. She didn't expect the sudden and unwelcomed attention of multiple sets of eyes turned in her direction when the officers opened the doors. She was grateful when they quickly moved to the far side of the room. A lone figure sat bound to a chair. Even from this distance, Santana would have recognized his face anywhere. It was the man with the flail who had almost killed her and Quinn. A shiver went straight through her body as his eyes met hers.

Yrsarald didn't turn to welcome Santana; he stayed completely focused on the man. "If you give me nothing, I have no use for you." The commander's fully armored hand balled into a fist and he delivered a punch straight to the man's gut.

The attacker only grunted despite the obvious pain he was in. He raised his eyes, but looked straight past Yrsarald to Santana. The same malicious intent he bore for the Jarl's daughter in the sleeping quarters seemed to magnify here. Santana tilted her chin up as she had seen Quinn do under difficult circumstances to meet his stare. Even if she didn't balk, her entire body felt on the verge of quaking under the man's heavy resolve. Santana reminded herself over and over again that she had bested him, she had almost killed him, he could do nothing to her or Quinn now. It was over.

"Take him back to the hold. I will execute him in the morning."

Two soldiers unbound the man and half dragged him through the chamber. Santana took a step back to give them room.

As he went past her, the man turned his head and spoke directly to Santana. " _My death means nothing, but your death, Stormcloak, will bring freedom."_

It was the second time he had called her by her surname and it was no less threatening. Santana swallowed hard, but didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. The door to the chamber slammed shut. Even if it was over, Santana couldn't help feeling as if the man threatened troubles that had yet to begin.

Yrsarald stepped forward into the room and waved his hand to dismiss the nonessentials in the room. Ten lower ranked soldiers and the few Bone-Breakers who had been lingering on the outside ring exited the room. It left most of the officers and – Santana tried not to show any more expression, but she hadn't noticed Quinn on the far side of the room. Quinn was also trying hard not to react, but Santana could see the way her friend's eyes held the man's words. Perhaps she too remembered how close to death they had been and couldn't shake how imminent his threat felt.

"Santana, Daughter of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, step forward." Yrsarald commanded.

Santana knew the difference between a mere Bone-Breaker and the order of one of her father's commanders so she did not hesitate to step forward. While she knew, Yrsarald would never bring her harm or humiliate her publically like a soldier; her humiliation of being sent packing back to Windhelm would be far worse. It wouldn't do her any favors to piss off the commander.

"You summoned me, commander." Santana did as beckoned, but since she wasn't a soldier under oath, she only inclined her head in respect rather than salute.

"Your time here in the fort with the recruits has come to an end. You have a great deal to learn and a tutor chosen specifically by the Jarl to train you. I have received word of your tutor's arrival in the Jarl's territory and that you are expected to travel. Your deeds during the bandit attack have not been lost upon myself or the rest of the fort, therefore, I have elected to not spare any of the guard to accompany you to the meeting point with your new tutor. You have shown the ability to protect yourself."

Quinn swallowed hard. She didn't know whether Yrsarald's decision was what he stated or if he didn't want to spare any soldiers from the fort because he still feared an attack or perhaps he wished to use Santana as bait. If there was a spy in the fort and they were truly trying to kidnap the Jarl's daughter, she would be ambushed on her way to the rendezvous point. Quinn kept her thoughts silent, but a sharp fear gripped her stomach. Despite their training, Quinn couldn't imagine Santana leaving the fort by herself. However, she saw the look in her friend's eyes. This was the kind of freedom Santana desired. She wasn't thinking of the dangers or the motives behind Yrsarald's decision.

"Thank you, Commander Yrsarald – " Santana started and dared a half glance in Quinn's direction. She could see lines of worry around her companion's eyes and something else. Santana continued speaking in order to please Quinn. She wanted to prove that she could be respectful and responsible when she was treated with the same curtesy. " – my time here has been invaluable and I take with me all that I learned and experienced under the direction of your officers. I will not forget my summer or your lessons especially in command."

Yrsarald could be a hard man to read, most of Ulfric's commanders were, with the exception of Galmar, but Yrsarald's mouth quirked hard to the side as if he were amused by Santana's compliance. "It's encouraging to hear. I expect when you return that perhaps you will be the one leading and teaching by example here."

Santana recognized that he was trying to goad her into committing to her father's army so she chose her reply carefully. "If Talos wills it." She bowed her head to dismiss herself.

"Hold on. I was not finished. You may not have a guard to escort you, but Officer Fabray will accompany you to the rendezvous point at which time you will begin your training."

Santana glanced to Quinn and furrowed her brow in confusion. Quinn shared the same expression. Clearly, she hadn't expected to accompany Santana. At first, Santana thought Quinn would have been disappointed to be temporarily reassigned from her commission at the fort, but her friend's eyes softened and she pushed back a strand piece of blonde hair from her face as she met Santana's stare. There was nothing but happiness for Santana in Quinn's eyes. Quinn knew how much she wanted to find a sense of autonomy away from her father's army; perhaps this was the first step toward that separation.

Quinn stepped forward. "I would be honored to escort the Jarl's daughter until I am certain of her safety, commander."

"Very good. We will discuss your next assignment when you return, officer."

"Thank you, commander." Quinn saluted and turned on her heels at his dismissal.

Santana hesitated for a moment to make sure that Yrsarald did not require her further, but the commander was already pointing furiously to a section of his map and demanding to know which officer had been in charge of a certain patrol yesterday.

* * *

"It's just odd that the commander would send us by ourselves." Santana whacked at a low hanging branch on the old hunting path.

"It's not our place to question the commander."

Santana stuck her tongue out. They were three days out from the fort and finally nearing the rendezvous point. "Yeah, but I saw your face. You questioned his decision too."

"I did not." Quinn immediately rejected Santana's observation.

"Quinn…"

No response.

"Quinn…you can't ignore me." Santana didn't want to let the subject go. "You think you're so good at hiding your thoughts, but I can see you thinking about it. Just like you couldn't hide the way you questioned the commander's decision."

"Quinn!"

"What?!" Quinn finally turned around in her saddle to look at Santana.

"Didn't you think it was weird that Yrsarald sent us alone? And don't lie to me."

Quinn didn't bother to hide her frown. "It is not our pla-"

"By Talos, Quinn! You sound like a town crier announcing the same sentence all day." Santana drew abreast of her friend. "Tell me the truth."

"You're intolerable."

"That's not what you said to the commander. The same commander who sent us off by ourselves."

"Do you miss the fort already, Santana?" Quinn teased trying to change the subject. It was unnerving that despite Santana's feigned indifference toward everything, she always seemed to pick up all of Quinn's moods, even the ones she tried to hide. "Because we can always go back and ask the commander himself if you want."

"No." Santana snapped. "Of course not, it just seems strange that he would send us alone when we haven't travelled this far into The Pale without an escort or part of a company. And you have to admit that it's strange, Quinn."

Quinn muttered a few words under her breath before she finally turned to Santana. "It is strange and I don't know what his motivations were. He's still trying to determine the source of the attack on the fort and sending more than the two of us could make us easy targets for an ambush. And since we haven't been attacked, we have to assume that the commander made the right choice."

"You place too much trust in him." Santana puffed out in exasperation. She remembered the look Yrsarald gave her after the attack.

"He is a commander for a reason, Santana. We are supposed to trust him."

"Whatever." Santana shrugged. "And I'm sure this next tutor is going to be the same as him. All listen, trust, orders, and whatever my father told him to do."

"At least this one is bound to be better than the Bone-Breaker."

"Yeah, different doesn't mean better."

"But he's from Solitude, the seat of Skyrim, and where the High King presides. Clearly, your father wants only the best for you. I'm sure it wasn't easy finding someone to take an assignment across the country."

"Gold seems to make anything easy."

"I'm sure your tutor will be a warrior of honor first before gold."

Santana almost said that not every warrior was like Quinn, but she bit her tongue. It was a compliment that would have embarrassed and shamed both of them to say out loud because it would mean that not every warrior was honorable and that Quinn was somehow an exception. It would be an insult to the very company Quinn belonged.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Quinn." Santana rolled her eyes again and pulled out the parchment that Yrsarald had handed to her.

 _I have been delayed outside of the Tumble Arch Pass. The delay will set back the Jarl's daughter's training and our journey West through Skyrim. Send the girl to the scout's peak near the Pass._

 _-D.R._

 _BM_

 _[Three Strikes]_

It wasn't the first time Santana ran her thumb along the lines of the crudely, but carefully drawn lines at the bottom of the parchment. Santana had never seen a signature that ended in such a brash symbol. Santana had expected something of a Bear or perhaps a Wolf's head as that was the symbol of Solitude.

The note wouldn't have meant much except that it came with a Bear's head ring. Santana knew the ring very well – it was one her father wore on his right pinky finger and it was an heirloom. He would have never parted with the ring unless he was sending a message to Santana.

"We should be getting close." Quinn stated the obvious. The trees thinned and the ground was stonier, harder than before with less green grass. "There's an over look ledge around the next ridge."

"How do you know that?"

Quinn dismounted from her horse at the edge of the tree line and tied the reins to an overhanging limb. "My father brought me here once – before he left – do you see smoke over there? Leave your horse. It gets steep."

"Maybe it's the tutor." Santana suggested and followed Quinn's instructions. She purposely didn't pursue Quinn's mention of her father.

The two girls started to ascend the next ridge of the pass. Quinn took the lead with care of the change in altitude and elevation. The path winded around the north side of the pass and over some narrow pathways carved into the rock. Quinn rounded the final bend and paused curiously at the scene. A recently extinguished fire was the source of the smoke. There was a bedroll opened for one person and a few piles of kindling. Half-eaten food was smoking in the fire as if it had been thrown haphazardly in the flames.

"Do you think he left the camp?"

"If he did – " Quinn's brows furrowed at the dirt near the fire. " – he must have done so in a hurry. I've never seen a soldier leave a camp site so ill attended. An officer would be punished for such a poor example of discipline."

"Maybe my tutor isn't a soldier." Santana kicked at the burnt food resting on the fire. "He's supposed to be from Solitude and your father and mine have only recently started to truly train a military. Perhaps he's a traditional."

Quinn frowned at the idea. Santana needed more discipline – not less. She was already loose and reckless and "traditionals" had a habit of disregarding safety in the pursuit of glory and for a place at Sovngard **.** They were the vanguard – the old way and could still be effective in certain situations, but they were weak when separated or caught in an open battlefield. Quinn felt her stomach turn at the thought of leaving Santana's training with one. She prayed to Talos that Santana was wrong and there was a better reason the tutor had left his camp in disarray.

"Quinn…" Santana crouched at the far side of the camp and pushed aside some furs. "I think he must have taken off this way. Do you think we should follow?"

"If he left his camp in a hurry, this D.R. –" Quinn referenced the initials left on the note. " – could be in trouble."

"Then we should pursue." Santana immediately took off after what she thought were his tracks. Quinn followed and peered further along the path.

An hour later and the two teens were on the other side of the ridge. Trees surrounded them on all sides and there were a few sparsely used paths through the wood line where either hunter or animal frequented enough to break branches, but the tracks from the tutor were harder to follow here. Santana paused and heistated before she bent down and touched the imprint of a heel.

"Did he go this way?" Quinn questioned. "Does it look like he was running from something?"

"Um –" Santana touched the heel print and looked further down the path there were three other heel prints and all of them split in directions.

"Santana?"

"Um -

"Which way did he go?"

Santana's cheeks flushed in frustration and anger under Quinn's impatience. She wasn't a tracker and she had no clue which way the tutor went or if he was in danger or running from something. She could feel Quinn waiting for an answer. Santana stood up and took the furthest heel print from her. It had to be the right direction. "Um – this way."

She broke into the tree line to follow the heel. They pushed at branches and followed what they deemed were trails in pursuit of the tutor. It felt like hours that they circled around through the trees on the pass, but whenever Santana thought they were getting closer, another boot imprint would reveal itself and take them in a different direction.

"Santana, do you know where we are going?"

"Of course I don't know where we are going!" Santana violently whacked down some low hanging brush. "I'm not a tracker! I have no idea where this guy went!"

"That's not what you said before!"

"Well I wasn't sure before! And now I know I have no clue."

"Great." Quinn groaned and looked around the wooded area. "We should just return to the camp and hope he returns."

"Fine, but I have no clue where th-"

"Shhh!" Quinn quieted her companion and glanced past Santana's head. "I think I saw something up there. It looks like a clearing."

The two girls cautiously approached the clearing, but as they stepped into the ring, there was no one in sight or any wildlife. They both peered closely at the tree line.

"There's nothing here, Quinn. We should start making our way ba-"

An arrow shaft sped through the air at a dazzling speed right between Quinn and Santana's noses. Santana's eyes widened as she watched the deadly projectile miss them by a mere inch. Quinn gave her a hard shove to separate them and in the same motion withdrew her blade. Santana followed suit, but a second arrow and third arrow sped through the air. Each arrow missed Quinn and Santana by a fraction and imbedded into the trees next to their heads.

Both girls froze. Their bodies tensed and their hearts hammered uncontrollably as they recognized they were beat. If the archer wanted to kill them, they would have already. Santana's left hand gripped her sword painfully hard, but it was the only thing she could do.

Quinn's voice cracked. "Show yourself!"

This is what she feared – an ambush from whoever wanted to kidnap Santana and once again she had led her friend straight into danger. Her shield was still strapped to her back, if she could get it, perhaps she could cover Santana long enough to make a break for the woods. She twitched her left hand slowly behind her back as to not draw attention to her plans.

 _THUNK_

A fourth arrow pierced the space between Quinn's middle and forefinger. The sharp arrowhead sliced the inside of her fingers and pinned her to the tree. She cried out in pain and looked down at her hand in disbelief. It was an impossible shot – right between her fingers, but it didn't pierce her hand – she would be scratched but no permanent damage. The shot was so good that it couldn't have been a mistake. Whoever was shooting at them had to be a master bowman.

"Quinn!" Santana jolted forward to help her friend but another arrow slammed into the tree behind Santana as a way to remind her of her vulnerable position.

"No." Quinn hissed. "I'm fine. Stay there, Santana."

"But-"

Quinn's eyes silenced her protest. "We are at your mercy. What do you want from us?"

Leaves on a tree from the other side of the clear rustled, but the voice that followed came from somewhere else. Was there more than one archer?

"You've been at my mercy since you started your ascent up the pass." It was a woman's voice, one full of authority, but she was not boastful or proud of her assertion that the two teenagers were under her mercy. It was just a statement of fact.

"Who are you?" Quinn demanded.

"I am the one with the power here, Officer Fabray, and I will be the one asking the questions." The woman stated from another place in the circle of trees around them. Quinn and Santana's eyes whipped around trying to find the new source of the woman's voice. Quinn didn't know how this mysterious woman knew her name. "Now, lay your weapons down on the ground, including your shield, and step into the center of the clearing."

Quinn reached around her waist with her good hand and undid her buckle. The scabbard fell to the ground followed by her sword.

"Quinn, what are you doing?"

"Drop your weapons, Santana." Quinn whispered. " _Live to fight another day."_

Santana growled and violently undid the belt around her waist. Together the two girls crossed into the clearing. The sense of unease between them mounted. Santana's fingers twitched toward her back where she had a small knife hiding. She knew Quinn had concealed weapons as well. No true Nord would travel from their bedroom to their kitchen without carrying at least three different weapons.

"Hands up." The voice ordered as if she could read Santana's mind. "And away from any other weapons you may possess."

"What do you want from us?!" Santana shouted in exasperation.

"Still demanding questions even when you are clearly under my mercy."

"By the authority of the Jarl, answer me!"

"I think I will be the only one here speaking on the Jarl's behalf."

"What?" Santana jerked at the way the woman so casually invoked her father's authority. "Show yourself."

The brush once more rustled but it came from behind them. Santana and Quinn turned to face the source of the noise. A very familiar face stepped from behind a tree with a drawn bow leveled and pointing at the small space between the teens' bodies. Her blonde hair was typical of Nords, but neither Santana nor Quinn forgot the woman's striking eyes from the tavern.

Quinn was the first to say her name in complete disbelief. "Dinrah?"

She was different than the last time they saw the "barmaid" at the tavern. Then she wore a dress that drew the eye to her chest and she wore her hair down to attract attention. She carried around trays of ale and a lute to play songs for the tavern's patrons. Now, she was dressed in hard fighting leathers and shoulder pads that would protect her from attacks. Her hands were gloved and she wore a bracer to protect herself from the string of her bow. She wore a sword on her hip and her belt was filled with traps, ropes, potions, and a variety of other essentials for a skilled and dangerous warrior on the road. Her blonde hair was tied in a high pony tail and Dinrah wore a leather thong around her forehead to prevent any fly-a-ways from blocking her vision. It was astounding that she could be the same woman from the tavern.

"At least you have the memory to recall my name, although I don't think at the time you were remembering it for a situation such as this."

"But-" Santana took a step forward, but checked the notched arrow still pointing at them. "What are you doing here? And why did you attack us?"

Dinrah smirked at the questions, but didn't lower her bow. "If I wanted to attack you, you'd both be dead or tied and already carted to the far side of Tamriel where you would never see Skyrim again."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be taking over your training." Dinrah snorted and lowered her bow as she revealed her true intention. "And honestly, you couldn't have had much training since it took you long enough to follow my trail and I wasn't too subtle about leaving clues. A child could have tracked me and children you must be to walk straight into a trap."

"We're certainly not children." Quinn instantly retorted before she fully processed what Dinrah had said, but Santana beat her to it.

"You – _you_ – are to be my tutor? What?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned. It seemed strange that Dinrah, the same woman who had been at the tavern the night of the attack on the fort, would reveal herself to be Santana's tutor in an isolated location away from the protection of the Jarl's sworn soldiers.

"I didn't expect to be welcomed with an embrace, but maybe a little less surprise." Dinrah addressed their shock. "I did just disarm and capture you both with minimal effort on my part."

"This makes no sense." Quinn shook her head violently. "The Jarl would never send his daughter to the middle of nowhere to be tutored by some barmaid."

"Who says I am only a barmaid? And who says barmaids aren't more fearsome than the whole of the Jarl's army?" Dinrah's eyes sparkled. "And the Jarl did send for me – personally."

"Prove it."

" _Quinn_." Santana hissed at her companion's poor show of hospitality. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time Quinn had ever show outright hostility toward someone – especially someone connected the Jarl and his authority.

"Come here and I'll show you." Dinrah invited.

Santana stepped forward, but Quinn shot her arm across Santana's chest. She maneuvered her body in front of Santana's and gave Dinrah a challenging glare. "No. Prove it from there."

"Officer Fabray, if I wanted to harm you or Santana, I could have a thousand times, but I think you know that." Dinrah reached into her belt and pulled out a small object. "Here." She tossed it across the clearing. Quinn caught the gold ring. "I sent the other one with the note to the fort. They should match – obviously."

Santana took the ring from Quinn's hand. She didn't have to look hard, she knew it matched the one in her pouch. Without waiting for permission from Quinn, Santana approached Dinrah.

"I can't believe you're going to be my tutor. How do you know my father? How did you throw your voice around the clearing? Will we be staying in the pass for long? I want to travel. How long have you been using the bow? Is Dinrah your real name?"

The woman smiled graciously at Santana's barrage of questions. "I have answers to all of your questions, Santana, but first, let's make our way back to my camp – preferably the direct way. Your tracking skills are lacking and I wanted to point out a few things on our way back." She casually called back to Quinn. "Officer Fabray, you are welcome to share our camp before you return to the fort."

"Oh. I will share your camp." Quinn huffed and followed behind them. "I promise you that."

* * *

"Keep up!" Dinrah shouted behind her shoulder. Branches and trees seemed to either unnaturally move around her or she was using some sort of magicka because Santana wasn't nearly as graceful as her tutor. Every time Santana tried to emulate the way Dinrah moved through the brush, a branch or vine or something would whack her face or trip her.

But she was determined; absolutely determined to catch Dinrah. She panted and struggled, but she kept running.

Finally, they broke into the same clearing where Dinrah had found them. Santana huffed and panted in the middle of the moss and grass and tried to catch her breath. Dinrah glanced at her and barely appeared winded.

"How did we end up back here?"

Dinrah shook her head. "You _must_ be aware of your surroundings and strategic points at all times." She hooked her thumb and pointed to some trees behind her back. "That's why the officer beat us here by a few minutes. She figured out the only place we would travel within a short distance."

"Quinn's here?" Santana creased her brows and didn't see her blonde haired friend. A moment later, Quinn stepped from behind the tree Dinrah had pointed to. Surprised, Santana glanced to her friend and then back to her tutor. "How did you know that?"

"Tracks on the way into the clearing. Lack of birds. Those branches next to her have been recently snapped and I know she dropped back about ten minutes ago and never rejoined us."

Santana's eyes quickly scanned to the things Dinrah mentioned. Quinn, however, frowned at how easily Dinrah had been able to point to the smallest of details and know that Quinn had beaten them to the clearing and taken a strategic point.

"I know we haven't talked about it much, but that was quick thinking, Officer Fabray."

Quinn said nothing.

"If you are planning to stay with us for another week, perhaps you would be interested in learning more advanced strategy and war tactics."

"Thank you for the offer, Tutor Dinrah, but I am here to insure the safety of Santana." Quinn straightened as if she were prepared to salute a distant commander. "My training will continue upon my return to the fort."

"As you will." Dinrah inclined her head and said nothing more.

Within a few minutes, Dinrah had Santana stringing a bow over and over and over again. It had taken Quinn months to convince Santana to pick up the shield and she had only done so after they were almost killed. It didn't seem right or fair that this woman came out of nowhere and had instantly earned Santana's trust or that she had convinced Santana to try a different weapon type so easily.

A bow? Santana could barely stay still during morning drills and Dinrah wanted to teach the bow to her? Yet Santana appeared attentive and even excited the first time Dinrah corrected her footing and readjusted her fingers on the fletching or demonstrated where the strength of the shot came from. Whenever Quinn readjusted Santana, it was an invitation for either a verbal or physical sparring.

Dinrah wasn't Stormcloak or part of the militia or served in the guard. Quinn had never heard of her and yet when she drew a blade for some light practice against Santana, Quinn's jaw almost dropped. She was the most fluid swordswoman Quinn had ever seen in action and she had seen a swordmaster fight against her father when she had been younger.

It seemed unreal that a swordsmaster like Dinrah could be hidden in Skyrim without Quinn's knowledge. Quinn didn't know what or who Dinrah was, but Quinn found it difficult to even fathom her existence, much less trust her.

She watched quietly from the outside of the clearing with a deep scowl. Something about Dinrah didn't seem right and while Santana's new tutor never excluded Quinn from training, Quinn could only imagine it would be a matter of time before Dinrah sent her back to the fort. Until then, Quinn wasn't certain she could leave Santana behind willingly. Yrsarald had been explicit in his instructions – Quinn was to accompany Santana until she was safe with her new tutor.

Quinn just wasn't certain of Santana's safety with Dinrah.

After the fort attack, Quinn wasn't certain of anything. She had brought Santana back into danger, risked the Jarl's daughter, and then been knocked unconscious during the battle. She wasn't about to make that mistake a second time. Quinn watched their training without comment.

A few days later, Santana was more than exhausted and Dinrah insisted that they return to camp for the night.

Santana took the opportunity to walk back to camp shoulder to shoulder with her companion. "What's your deal, Quinn?"

"I don't have a deal."

"Yeah you do. You've been angry and distant since we got here. You never talk to Dinrah and it's not like to take yourself out of training exercises. So what's your deal?"

"Nothing. This is your training, not mine."

"But that's never stopped yo-"

"I am here to see to your safety, not to participate in your training."

Santana had never heard Quinn say anything like that before. It was unnerving. Quinn was the one always insisting on learning anything especially from someone with Dinrah's proficiency. Not many people could read Quinn and because of her natural offstandishness, they tended to not try to know her, but Santana could read Quinn better than herself. She narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you trust her?"

Quinn didn't answer because she knew Santana would despise her reasoning. "I was charged with your safety. I will not take that duty lightly ever again."

Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn's ridiculous claim to duty and honor. "It wasn't your fault at the fort, Quinn, and we're fine; neither of us was hurt. That's not your issue. What's bothering you? I thought this was what you wanted!"

"She's not Stormcloak. She's not from Windhelm. She's not in the army or from a barracks. We don't know her. I've never heard of her. We met her the same night the fort was attacked, Santana! Coincidences don't just happen."

"So because she isn't a soldier, you don't trust her?" Santana's question was a trap laced in venom.

Quinn knew she shouldn't answer, but she was so frustrated with Santana's lack of suspicion that she took the obvious bait. "Yes!"

"I knew that was the reason." Santana hissed and gave Quinn a hard shove. Quinn's expression was one of surprise. "You know…she isn't the only one who isn't a soldier, but you think soldiers are the only ones worthy of trust. I guess I'm not worthy of it either."

"That's not what I-"

Santana broke for the woods line next to the path and disappeared before Quinn could follow. It left Quinn by herself and an overwhelming feeling of guilt. She didn't mean to say something that would purposely hurt Santana, but she couldn't help herself. Why did Santana have to be so trusting of Dinrah?

By the time Quinn made it back to camp, Santana was already glaring angrily at the fire. Dinrah was nearby eating some of the game they had shot. Quinn silently moved to her own bed roll. It was the first time Santana had beaten her back to the camp during the entire time they had been here. Either Santana had sprinted the entire way or Dinrah's lessons had actually improved Santana. Quinn hated to admit that it was probably the latter.

Whether Dinrah sensed the nature of the two girls' argument, she didn't comment or broach the topic. She quietly passed Quinn a knife to take her cut of the meal from the fire.

The night passed on in silence until Dinrah assigned the night watch, as she always did. "Quinn, take first watch. Santana, take second. I will take third. I have some business to attend to in the morning. So if Officer Fabray is staying another day, perhaps you two could continue training until I return."

Quinn slid against the tree and unbarred her sword while looking at Dinrah. "I will be staying another day."

"Then it's settled." Dinrah concluded before either of the girls could protest. "You will train together in my absence tomorrow."

It wasn't until Quinn was left alone during watch duty that she started to wonder what business Dinrah could possibly have in the middle of nowhere. But it was too late to question Santana's tutor. It would be disrespectful to question Dinrah now. Quinn silently mulled over the reasons for Dinrah's strange agenda during the length of her watch until she finally woke Santana for her shift. They didn't say anything more than necessary to each other.

* * *

Their morning was spent in silence. Dinrah left with a small pack and her weapons after waking the two teens. If it hadn't been for Santana's glare, Quinn would have followed after the tutor. Instead, they walked together to the clearing. Santana didn't say a word as she unsheathed her swords. They had spent their childhood practicing and sparring together, but this time felt different. Quinn strapped her shield to her arm and withdrew her own sword and waited as she always did for Santana to make the first move.

Except she didn't.

Santana took a slow and thoughtful step to her right and patiently spun the sword in her left hand. Quinn mirrored her step and tried not to show her surprise. Santana had never done anything like this before. The energy between them rose to an almost unbearable height before the two teens clashed. They had fought each other angry and full of hurt pride a hundred times before. In fact, they had done so most recently at the fort, but this was different. Santana usually pressed until she fell out of position, out of form, and made a mistake to expose herself.

This morning she was focused and furious. Her attacks were sharp and tighter than Quinn had ever seen Santana throw. Quinn was hard pressed to find a pulse on their fight. And for the first time, Santana controlled the flow of combat. She had different moves, more than one style, and she blocked Quinn's attacks almost as efficiently as she attacked. This wasn't just Santana; this was Santana a few weeks into training with Dinrah.

The moment she recognized this, Quinn pushed Santana to her limits and raised her level of skill to match and then overwhelm Santana.

Their sparring ended with Santana on her backside and Quinn standing over her body panting in exertion.

"That was good." Quinn offered as a compliment with her hand to help Santana up.

"Whatever." Santana swatted Quinn's hand away in anger. "Save your encouragement for one of your recruits, officer. We sparred. You won. So we're done."

"Bu-"

"I'm going to hunt or at least practice shooting." Santana pushed herself off the ground and went to her pack to retrieve her bow.

Quinn thought maybe Santana would return to finish the rest of their argument, but she never did. Quinn waited longer than she should have, but when it became painfully evident that Santana would not return, Quinn grew determined to put her mind at rest. Maybe she was overreacting about Dinrah.

Maybe…

A good solider knows when to make a critical assessment, especially of oneself.

Maybe she was jealous…

Maybe it was time she put an end to her pettiness. It behooved no one to continue acting childish. Santana finally had a tutor she respected and Quinn had a command waiting for her back at the fort. She knew the jarl and the other commanders were just waiting for her advancement. They had been waiting since her father's death. There weren't many titles in Skyrim that passed through bloodlines, but the one they wanted to give her, she would earn. By dallying around Santana, she had already delayed that plan for too long.

Quinn just needed to put her mind to rest.

* * *

At first, Dinrah's trail wasn't hard to pick up. In fact, it was almost bold the way she travelled down the pass as if she didn't care who followed. However, Quinn didn't want to be caught. It would be embarrassing for both of them, so Quinn made sure to stay back and follow with a great deal of caution. If she could just find the tutor and be assured that she was genuine, Quinn would pack and leave the next morning.

Halfway down the pass, Quinn noticed Dinrah's tracks were hidden and harder to spot. She was by no means a tracker, but she shouldn't have had an issue finding Dinrah's path. A small spilt in a branch was the only indication that someone preceded her. Quinn grew more cautious as she advanced.

As the mountain base flattened, Quinn started to worry that she had lost Dinrah's trail completely. Against the wall, on the west side of the pass and tucked behind tree cover, Quinn spotted Dinrah's blonde hair and body. She knelt at the side of the pass and carefully unwrapped a package that she had pulled from the mountain wall. Quinn ducked into the brush as quietly as possible some distance away and waited.

For the sake of Santana and her own peace of mind, Quinn wished nothing more than for Dinrah's excursion down the pass to be nothing, but Quinn felt uneasy. What motive could Dinrah have for pulling hidden packages from the wall?

What could she be hiding?

Dinrah remained in front of the rock wall with the package for a long time and because of the way she faced the pass, Quinn could only see her backside. Finally, Dinrah repackaged whatever she had pulled out and placed it carefully back into the wall. The weaponsmaster withdrew from the clearing and left. Quinn imagined it was to return to their camp and check Santana's progress. Quinn knew she should leave immediately to get back to camp without arousing suspicion, but she sat still and continued to stare at where the package was stored.

Whatever it was, Dinrah didn't want to share it with her protégée or Quinn. Whatever she was hiding could be insidious or a message for the men who attacked the fort or… a message from the Jarl himself and by opening the package, Quinn disrespect Dinrah, her commanders, and Jarl Ulfric himself.

Her stomach twisted until Quinn knew she couldn't break that unspoken trust.

She would leave the package where it was, leave for the fort tomorrow, and trust Jarl Ulfric's choice of tutors.

Quinn made a move to stand up from her spot, but a large calloused hand wrapped around her mouth. Her heart started pounding as she felt the tip of a blade press into her lower back.

A man's voice spoke with authority next to Quinn's ear. "I will release my hand only if I have your word that you won't do anything foolish. I didn't wish to startle you, but I will silence you if you give me no choice."

Quinn's eyes darted around frantically. She saw no one else, but the man's casual tone made her believe that he was unconcerned of her resistance.

"Nod if you will cooperate."

She had no choice. Quinn slowly nodded and the man pulled the knife back from her body and released his hand gently. Quinn didn't scream, but she immediately jumped back to put space between their bodies and withdrew her sword. The man was not much taller than most of her recruits, however, her bore an impressive scar on the left side of his face and looked as if he had seen many battles. Most importantly, the bright blue Bear of Windhelm was proudly displayed on his chest. This was no brigand or bandit, but by the looks of his armor, a decorated soldier.

Quinn felt a flood of relief at the sight of a fellow officer. She quickly sheathed her sword and held her hands in the air as a sign of respect before she saluted him. "My apologies, sir. I didn't realize-"

"Please." His smile broke through Quinn's apologies. "Don't apologize. I was the one who acted poorly. I didn't see your shield until I was already too close to you. I didn't want to alarm you and risk harming either yourself or one of my men in the trees." He outstretched his hand. "My name is Captain Eorun and you are either a deserter or a blessing sent by Talos himself."

"I am Officer Quinn Fabray, stationed at Fort Morvunskar under Commander Yrsarald. The Bear of Windhelm is a welcomed sight."

"I share the same feeling. You are far from your post, Officer."

"I am under a special assignment at the moment."

"If you are already under a special assignment, perhaps I could ask for your assistance."

"Of course."

"We have been tracking a traitor to the jarl. One who has eluded my grasp for several years and recently stole something very dear to me before leaving me for dead. I believe you too were just watching her."

Quinn's mouth dried and her chest tightened at Eorun's accusation. It was hard to miss that he indicated Dinrah to be a traitor.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you after I realized that you were watching Dinrah. You waited a long time for her to leave so I knew you couldn't have been associated with her and now that I know you are a fellow officer and one under Thrice-Pierced, I believe I can trust you."

"Captain Eorun, I appreciate your trust, but I must inform you that you are mistaken. I and my companion, Santana, have been traveling with Dinrah for the past several weeks and she has not shown the sort of character you have described. Additionally, I have reason to believe her intentions because of a token she carries."

"And yet…" Eorun glanced to the place where Dinrah had stood against the rocky pass. "You followed her here without her knowledge and didn't reveal yourself until she had long vanished. And yet you defend her?"

"I defend the man who vouched for her honor."

"You mentioned Santana was your companion."

Quinn swallowed hard hearing Santana's name on this man's tongue. It was information that she should have kept closer. Again, she had failed in her duty. Yrsarald should not have been so quick to trust her. She was barely able to control the flush to her cheeks.

Eorun must have noticed. "I only mentioned Santana because you believe her father vouched for Dinrah. However, you must know the item she stole from me was a ring from the jarl himself to name me as his loyal subject."

It was impossible not to feel a tumult of emotions at Eorun's information about Dinrah and his proximity to Ulfric. What was even more alarming was the possibility that Santana's safety was compromised in an impostor's tutelage. Worst, Quinn knew Santana. She knew Santana would believe Dinrah. Quinn knew that if Eorun confronted Dinrah and Dinrah fought, Santana would wield her swords and life for her tutor's protection.

Quietly, Quinn answered him. "I know of the ring you speak-"

Eorun straightened and raised two fingers in the air. As he previously indicated, he was not alone. Several men rose from the surroundings with bows and swords. If they went to attack Dinrah, Santana would be foolish enough to get herself killed. Quinn quickly continued speaking. "- but I am cautious of your tale and Santana's life. Give me the opportunity to deduce whether Dinrah is an actual imposter as you say is true or you will risk the jarl's daughter's life."

Eorun signaled his men down. "I am trusting you with my honor. I trust you know how difficult a position that puts me in, but if you wish to assess the situation yourself, I understand. Please know that she hides in plain sight and was once a loyal soldier to the jarl himself. She will not go down without a fight. You should not arouse her suspicions. She's been known to take identities and twist them for her own. It wouldn't surprise me to know she chose her current guise to get closer to the jarl's daughter."

"All the more reason to keep Santana out of it completely. Captain, I will return to you within a day with my findings."

Eorun tried not to let his disappointment show; however, he gave Quinn a solemn nod. "I will await your decision and will honor your request. I would like this manner handled in the most honorable way possible and would not see anyone else harmed by her misdeeds."

* * *

Quinn struggled the entire time back to camp trying to formulate a plan that would minimize Santana's involvement, but every scenario led directly to Santana immediately not trusting a word Quinn said and earning her eternal resentment. Telling Santana would only lead to an outright fight. Trying to pry Santana away from Dinrah would be impossible now after their fight this morning and trying to prove that a skilled swordswoman like Dinrah was actually an imposter seemed unlikely; she would have covered her tracks.

Even now, Quinn's absence from camp would be noted.

She still didn't have a decision by the time she reached camp. Santana refused to even acknowledge Quinn's appearance and obstinately faced the opposite direction as Quinn approached the fire. It wasn't until Dinrah made her way to sit next to Quinn that Santana stood up and left for her bedroll.

Quinn shifted in front of the fire at both Santana's ire and Dinrah's proximity. For several minutes, Dinrah said nothing, but just sat next to the young officer. Quinn stared into the fire as if focusing on the flames would cover all of the thoughts and questions bouncing around in her head.

Did Dinrah already know of her conversation with the captain?

"I see you returned alone." Dinrah paused as if unsure how to proceed with the conversation. "As did Santana."

At the mention of Santana, Quinn's eyes slid over to Santana's bedroll. The heat from the fire did little to mask the deep red in Quinn's cheeks. "We had a disagreement."

"I gathered as much. Santana is poor at masking her feelings."

Quinn bit her tongue unsure if she felt comfortable revealing anything to Dinrah after her conversation with Eorun, but until she was proven an impostor, Dinrah still ranked above Quinn by her experience and prowess. No matter Dinrah's allegiance, it was still a shameful topic for an officer to have with a superior. Quinn took the only option available to her. She hung her head, remained silent, and allowed Dinrah the time to reprimand her behavior.

"I don't wish to tell you your business, Officer Fabray, but I have never seen a pupil so affected." Dinrah paused again. "She looks to you, but I think you already know that."

Now Quinn's face burned bright red and she swallowed hard. She struggled to speak; she hadn't expected such careful and complimentary words from a superior especially after what Eorun had revealed. "Thank you for your words, Tutor Dinrah."

The beautiful blonde swordsmaster rose from the fire to give Quinn space to mull over her words.

It wasn't until later after Dinrah's chiding ebbed and the sting of letting down Santana lessened that Quinn was able to once again contemplate Captain Eorun's words. Whether Dinrah meant to push Quinn to act or not, her words set a flame in Quinn's chest. She would never let Santana down again even if that meant exposing Dinrah and losing Santana's trust. Perhaps one day, Santana would understand that her safety was worth more than their friendship. She had a duty to fulfill.

The next morning, after a quiet breakfast, Dinrah rose and told Santana to hunt down a few birds so that she could make crude arrows from their feathers for herself. Dinrah didn't invite Quinn verbally, but she glanced over to see if the officer would join them, but Quinn did not return Dinrah's invitation. She kept her head down and continued sharpening her sword and making minor repairs to her favorite shield.

A few minutes later, both Santana and Dinrah left. Quinn made her way back down the mountain pass. She found the place where Dinrah had pulled a package out of the rock with ease. It was an old pack. One that had seen better days.

Quinn suppressed the sick feeling in her stomach as she laid it on the ground. Despite breaking Dinrah's trust, she kept reminding herself that she was doing this for Santana's safety.

She unwrapped the straps and felt her stomach sink at its contents.

"You know, Officer Fabray, you are a soldier of habit." Dinrah's voice echoed from behind.

Quinn froze. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and she felt an instant chill rock through her body. She didn't move. She didn't respond. She glanced down at the tattered remnants of a Windhelm cloak. The dried blood caked into the material was unmistakable. The amount of brownish-red spread through the threads was telling; the previous owner did not survive. Why would Dinrah possess a bloodied cloak and hide it?

"No one of rank here, no commanders, not even a fellow officer, and you still maintain the same routine every morning, every day, the same sleeping position, the same watch at night, the same place you keep your sword, everything in regiment as if this were the army and there were commanders to answer to."

Quinn gripped the material in her hand hard. Her eyes darted frantically to see if there was anything nearby that she could use to defend herself. Her sword was more than an arm's reach away. Dinrah could shoot her before she even touched it.

"So it was painfully obvious when you broke routine today. If I didn't know you better, I would have assumed you wanted me to follow you here."

No options. Nothing to use as a shield or a weapon. Quinn tensed as she thought about Dinrah practicing with Santana in the clearing and the markings on the tutor's pommel. Dinrah wasn't just an ordinary tutor, she was a master swordswoman, honored, and acknowledged for her skills. Quinn knew there were only a handful of such weaponsmasters in Skyrim, as Skyrim warriors weren't typically acknowledged for their pure skills over their brute force. It was an honor bestowed in other parts of Tamriel; one not instantly recognized in Skyrim.

But Quinn had noticed it.

And Quinn knew that even with a sword, she would be hard pressed to directly spar with a woman like Dinrah.

"I wanted to give you and Santana time without my presence. I know that I have been a distraction." Quinn barely fumbled over her words and actually convinced herself that it was not much of a lie.

"You're good." Dinrah casually leaned against the tree. "You know that, right? And I don't mean with that poor attempt at a lie to buy yourself time."

Quinn's hand gripped the fabric harder as Dinrah called her out, but she remained silent.

"I mean you're very good. I've been watching you. You have skills, better than most I've seen at your age, and you're quick to learn, even quicker to adapt, and you're at your best when it comes to protecting Santana. That is why I haven't come to you directly. I wanted you to see my intentions for yourself." Dinrah didn't move closer, but her voice softened. "You've observed me for weeks and I have made my intentions with Santana's training well-known even to someone as skeptical as yourself, so now I must ask, Officer Fabray, what are _your_ intentions?"

Of all the ways Quinn had expected Dinrah to attack her, Quinn had been completely unprepared to have to answer such a question.

What were her intentions? What did that mean? Everything she did, she did for Santana. It had to be some sort of trick to misdirect her attention away from what Quinn found in the wall.

Quinn ignored Dinrah's question and lifted the bloody cloak from the bag. "What is this?"

The bloody cloak caught Dinrah by surprise. Her mouth drew into a straight line and her eyes widened. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. " _That doesn't belong to you. Put it back. Now."_

"It obviously doesn't belong to you either." Quinn didn't realize the cloak would affect Dinrah this much, so she pressed. "Explain how you came to possess a cloak of Windhelm."

"I don't have to explain myself. You will drop the cloak now, officer, and you will return to camp. That is an order."

Quinn hesitated, but saw the look in Dinrah's eyes. The cloak struck a chord; a serious chord. One that threatened Dinrah so much that Quinn knew when she should back down. She cautiously returned the cloak to the bag and moved away. Now that Dinrah had caught her, Quinn knew they couldn't trust each other. She took off through the tree line and prayed to Talos that Dinrah didn't wish to pursue her.

Quinn knew that if Dinrah wished her dead, it would take all the blessing of the Divines and Talos to save her.

She had only one option.

* * *

It wasn't easy trekking through the woods without a particular direction. It was even harder to walk toward a destination without Santana, but Quinn knew she had a duty to perform. It wasn't long before one of Eorun's men found Quinn and led her back to his camp.

"Officer Fabray, I hope you come with news of your decision."

"I have…" Quinn looked around and saw the faces of fellow soldiers, men, the jarl sent and commanded. The Bear of Windhelm seemed like home even in this abandoned woods. It gave her the courage to find her voice. "I went through Dinrah's packs."

Eorun said nothing, but he leaned forward attentively. "And?"

"It was as you said. There is much she hides. I found a bloody Windhelm guard cloak and when I asked her about it, she grew irate and told me it was none of my business."

Eorun hissed in disgust and shook his head. "Then we are too late to save Santana's real tutor. Dinrah killed him and took his place."

Heat rose through Quinn's body and flooded her cheeks at the mention of Santana's tutelage. She was the one who allowed Dinrah to train Santana. She should have questioned more and listened to her instincts regarding the outsider woman. She should have avenged the murdered tutor herself, but instead she ran; this time she would fulfill her duty.

"You promise to keep Santana safe?" Quinn quietly questioned.

"Upon my blood and honor to the Jarl."

"Tell me how you would do it. Dinrah is a master swordswoman and she won't relinquish Santana without a fight and I fear that Santana will not accept the word of a stranger over that of her teacher. If you move against Dinrah, Santana will fight on her behalf."

Eorun nodded. The light from the fire caught his eyes with Quinn's question. The officer would no longer be passive in their plans to relieve Dinrah of Santana's tutelage. It was the last piece they needed to secure a clean extraction. "We require your assistance to accomplish our mission and to keep Santana safe. She trusts you. You are her best friend. If this is to work, I need a token of yours. Something only Santana would recognize that way she would know we come to rescue her on your behalf."

Quinn nodded and reached around her neck to the thin leather thong. She undid the knot and handed it over. It was a small necklace with a nondescript stone. It was a gift her father had given her before he left on tour – a reminder that she was part of the very rock that made Skyrim. Only Santana would recognize it.

Eorun reverently took the token from Quinn and nodded. "Thank you for your trust, Quinn, we will not fail you, the Jarl, or Santana." He tucked the token into his tunic and drew with a stick on the dirt between them. It wasn't a complicated plan and Quinn's part would be so minimal that it ensured the least amount of conflict.

It wasn't without dangers, but all of those dangers would be far away from Santana. It was the only plan Quinn would have accepted. As the night grew darker and their time together longer, Quinn realized any return she made to camp would be dangerous. Dinrah could gamble Quinn's discovery against what she believed Quinn knew. Dinrah didn't know about Eorun or her contact with the captain. Hopefully, she would allow the whole issue to blow over.

Eorun sensed Quinn's unease. "You're making the right decision, Quinn." He paused as if he struggled against himself to say his next words. "I think your father would have been proud to know what a thoughtful and skilled warrior you've become. I know the first time I served with him, he spoke of having a son and the joy it would bring him to see his line continue with a strong boy's shoulders to carry the weight of his honor. It wasn't until my third tour, right before the same rebellion where he was struck down, that I had the chance to ask him about his son. Your father told me with great pride of his _daughter_ as if a son could never compare. I think he would still be proud of you."

Quinn's face flushed hot at Eorun's compliment. She had never known her father to be so open about his feelings, especially regarding his only child. Russel had been killed before he could learn of her promotion and had been out of the country when she had enlisted. Their only correspondence had been a simple note delivered via messenger from the front lines. It came two months after she took her vows as an Unblooded recruit.

 _Make Skyrim Proud_

"Thank you, Captain Eorun, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

"I mean it. Now –" He made a signal to the surrounding woods. "I will make sure that one of my most trusted men accompanies you to the edge of your camp to ensure your safety. But I know Dinrah and if she believes she still has a hold of Santana, she will not attack you. So do not fear for your life; she will believe she is in control of the situation. And that will work to our advantage. Remember the plan. We will be nearby waiting for your signal. After we've successfully rescued Santana and brought Dinrah before the Jarl, I will make sure he knows of the part you played. May Talos watch over you, Quinn." He offered his hand as a sign of respect.

Quinn and Eorun's soldier made their way cautiously up the pass until Quinn no longer felt safe keeping him nearby. She dismissed him with a message to Eorun that she would follow their plan and that bringing his men any closer to Dinrah's camp would needlessly endanger them. She entered the clearing where Santana and Dinrah nursed a fire and a few birds on the spit.

Santana didn't look up, but she poked at the embers with more concentration and vigor. Dinrah, however, made eye contact with Quinn immediately and never looked away. The tutor's stare was pensive and calculating. It made Quinn wonder if Dinrah knew where she had been for most of the afternoon. Did she know of their plans? Did she know Quinn knew she was a fraud?

"I see you've returned, officer." Dinrah's voice was guarded.

"I had no choice. Honor demands I fulfill my duty."

Dinrah pressed. "I have no more packs to rummage and you've declined every offer of tutelage I've given you. You've spent two days away from Santana and I thought her safety was your most important assignment. So, officer, what would you call your _duty?_ "

"I wished to discuss that with you…" Quinn glanced toward Santana who was no longer pretending she couldn't see or hear their conversation. "…in private."

Dinrah also looked at Santana before slowly nodding. "Lead the way, officer. I think this talk is long overdue."

Santana must have sensed the nature of their conversation and overheard at least some of it because she finally stopped ignoring Quinn's presence. She stood from the fire and walked toward her friend.

"Quinn…" Santana breathed quietly so they wouldn't be overheard by Dinrah. Despite their recent disagreements, there were some lines neither of them would cross. One of them being their pride. "I don't know what's wrong with you…but we don't need to fight and we don't need to involve Dinrah…"

Quinn felt her stomach flutter and her left hand shook with nerves. She met Santana's concerned gaze with one of her own. "Santana, just remember that I'm doing this for you. No matter what happens next, okay?"

"You don't have to do anything, Quinn. It's fine. Just let it go? I promise, I'll let it go too and we can go back to normal."

"That's all I want too." Quinn nodded and steeled her resolve before walking away.

Even when they disagreed, they were both just trying to protect each other. This was for the best. Dinrah was dangerous and Santana was too trusting. Maybe one day, Santana would forgive her.

Dinrah patiently waited at the edge of their camp and fell into step behind Quinn. They walked in silence through the twilight. The light of the stars and the moons cast enough light so they could move with care. Quinn tried to remain calm, but she could feel Dinrah's proximity. She knew the swordswoman still had her weapon strapped to her waist and could kill Quinn in a heartbeat.

However nervous Dinrah made her, Quinn tried to keep her mind on the map Eorun drew on the ground. He said his men would be staged near the clearing where they would practice. All Quinn had to do was get them into position and they would apprehend Dinrah while Eorun would extract Santana.

When they reached the spot that Eorun had marked, Quinn finally stopped walking and turned around to face Dinrah.

Dinrah's blonde ponytail and sharp eyes refocused on Quinn. She held anger in her jaw, but her eyes were softer than when she confronted Quinn before.

"You wanted to talk to me in private, officer?"

"I did." Quinn resisted the urge to grip her hilt, but she hadn't seen any signs of Eorun's soldiers and she was unsure how long she could stall Dinrah by herself. "I do."

"Then speak, officer. I am sure you have much to say in ways of an apology for breaking my trust." Dinrah narrowed her eyes. "I am not one who easily forgives, but for Santana's sake and the respect she holds for you, I can bend."

Quinn felt the nerves in her fingertips transfer to heat in her stomach. It was insulting that Dinrah could claim to offer Quinn an extension of mercy. "I am not here to ask for your forgiveness, but to say you are not as you claim to be."

Dinrah tilted her head, but didn't deny the charges. "I don't know what you are th-"

She stopped talking and her eyes quickly darted around the brush. Without saying another word, Dinrah withdrew her sword. Her eyes grew wide as she looked back at Quinn.

"What have you done?"

Quinn took a step back and placed a hand on her own sword. Her heart raced and her palms were sweaty. There was no time to respond to the question. Eorun's men broke through the brush. A few of them held their bows with arrows drawn, but the rest were ready to charge forward with swords.

The soldier who escorted Quinn from Eorun's camp stepped forward in Quinn's direction. His face was covered and he wore a Windhelm helmet, but Quinn recognized the way he moved and his dark hair. He aimed the point of his sword directly at Dinrah's throat.

"Drop your swords." He commanded.

Quinn instantly unsheathed her sword and complied to the order.

However, Dinrah hesitated. The swordsmaster eyed her current situation. She was outnumbered and betrayed. She had let her guard down when she thought her conversation would be with the young Quinn only. However, she didn't drop her blade. Instead, she met Quinn's eyes.

"Drop your sword, Dinrah." His voice lowered with unspoken threats.

"I yield." Dinrah released her grip on her sword. She was good, but she knew when to fight another day.

"It's over, Dinrah. You will answer for your crimes."

"My crimes pale in comparison to yours and Eorun's. I will have my retribution."

"You will have as much as you have now, Dinrah…" He took another step toward the center, closer to Quinn. "…nothing."

"We shall see. There's no reason to involve outsiders. Take me to Eorun and we can settle our differences face to face." Dinrah's eyes flashed dangerously, but she made no moves to pick up her sword and fight him.

Quinn felt relief that the entire situation had been handled without a fight, but subduing Dinrah was only half of the plan. Santana's safety was the reason Quinn had agreed to help Eorun and his soldiers.

Thank Talos it was over.

"Has Captain Eorun made it to our camp? Is Santana safe-?" Quinn couldn't complete her question.

Something was wrong.

Something didn't feel right.

She looked down and felt all the blood in her cheeks drain as she watched the soldier's sword slide out of her stomach. The blade pulled at her skin and had sliced through her light armor. She looked up in disbelief and searched his callous eyes for an answer, but all she felt was cold – an unbearable – unreal cold. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Her body moved as if she had no control. Quinn dropped to her knees shaking and put a hand to her stomach. Blood – her blood – bubbled over her fingers.

Dinrah's voice seemed so far away as she cried out Quinn's name. The sound of steel clashed and echoed around her, but Quinn couldn't keep her eyes open. She couldn't see anything. She struggled to breathe; her mouth filled, but it wasn't with air. Her eyelids seemed impossibly heavy as she tasted metal and dirt.

Then nothing.

 **End Part II**


End file.
